


Never Let You Go

by rowanix



Category: IT (2017), IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Drunken Shenanigans, Eddie Kaspbrak Lives, F/M, Fix-It, Fluff, M/M, Mutual Pining, Pining, Slow Burn, Stanley Uris Lives, Wedding Fluff, Wedding Planning, Weddings, fuck you stephen king i make my own rules, i think technically, seriously cheesy shit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-11
Updated: 2019-11-25
Packaged: 2020-12-09 08:16:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 14
Words: 28,913
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20991716
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rowanix/pseuds/rowanix
Summary: The Losers prepare for a wedding.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> My tumblr is @eddie-boii ;)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, I'm just gonna say it now, this is gonna be the cheesiest thing in the world. Probably every cliche you can imagine. Friendship, family. Rot your teeth sweet. So much fluff you'll suffocate. You have been warned.

Richie was settling for a quiet night in. He’d been invited to a premiere of some horror movie but, after the shit he’d seen, he found them kind of bland. No amount of fancy editing and special effects could scare him when he’d faced the real thing. And besides, red carpets and chatting cordially with interviewers and smiling for cameras while dressed in an uncomfortable suit all required far more effort than he was willing to give. He was more than content with staying home in a ratty old t-shirt and boxer shorts, a can of beer in hand as he watched reruns of old nineties sitcoms. But his classy evening was interrupted by a knock on the door.

“Bev?” said Rich after he’d hastily tugged on some pants and opened the door. 

“Hi, Rich. Sorry to just turn up like this...” Beverly gave him a tight smile, her eyes glancing up only briefly before moving to focus on the floor, and Richie frowned because something was obviously up.

“You okay?”

“I-” she started but broke off, swallowing. “Um… can I come in?”

“Oh shit,” said Richie abruptly, realising they were still hovering in the doorway. “Yeah, yeah, of course.” He ushered her inside towards the living room, then quickly removed some empty beer cans and piles of clean laundry he had yet to put away so she had space to sit down. He sat beside her on the couch and she faced him, her legs pulled up as she leaned into the soft backrest of the couch. “What’s up?”

Beverly swallowed. “Um, something happened between me and Ben…”

“Oh shit,” said Richie eloquently. He’d thought she and Ben would last forever; the guy doted on her completely and they were perfect together. “Shit, are you okay?”

“Yeah, I-” She frowned then looked up at him finally. “Rich, do you remember when we were kids and we said if we were both single by fourty we’d marry each other?”

Richie blanched. He had not been expecting that. “Um…” he said, face bright red as he looked anywhere but at Beverly. “I mean… Well, yeah, but... I- I’d had my heart set on being married to Eddie’s mom by now and -” _Shit_. How do you tell your best friend you’re actually super gay and have been hiding it from her for years coz you’re a damn coward?

“Richie,” Beverly said softly. She was still looking at him tenderly and reached over to take his hand. “Rich, will you -”

_Shit shit shit._

“- be my man of honour.”

Richie blinked. He gaped. Then Beverly pulled a ring out of her jacket pocket and slipped it onto her ring finger, wiggling the impressive diamond in front of Richie’s face. 

“Ben proposed,” she said, her facade finally cracking to make way for a grin.

“You- you-” Richie stared at her and then leapt to his feet. “YOU ASSHOLE!” he exclaimed as Beverly burst into a fit of laughter, her whole body shaking and her hand clamped over her mouth in a meagre attempt to stifle the sound. “YOU _FUCKER! _YOU CAN’T JUST DO THAT TO A GUY! I WAS MENTALLY PLANNING TO JUMP ON A PLANE TO BERMUDA AND LIVE OUT THE REST OF MY LIFE AS A HERMIT!”

Beverly had tears in her eyes. “I’m sorry,” she gasped out finally. “I-” More laughter - “I couldn't resist. Your face…” She pointed at him before dissolving into more giggles. “Fuck, my cheeks are cramping.”

Richie slumped back down beside her and glared at her, which was a mighty feat as he was trying not to laugh too. “You are such a dick,” he said, then tugged her towards him in a tight hug. “Congratulations, you fucking asshole, of course I’ll be your man of honour. Jesus Christ.”

Beverly just buried her face in his shoulder until her laughter finally died down. It took quite a while and when she finally pulled back, smile apparently fixed permanently to her face, she pressed a kiss to his cheek. 

“Do I get to wear a beautiful flowing dress?” he asked her, framing his face in his hands and giving her his best girly grin. 

“You can wear whatever you like, babe,” she told him, then she gave a pointed look at his current attire. “As long as it’s not that.”

“Rude,” said Richie, feigning offence. “I am a fashion icon. So do I get to come help you pick a dress? Write the wedding invites? Uh… I don’t know what else happens at weddings.”

She rolled her eyes. “You’ll have Stanley to help you,” she told him.

“I thought people only had the one man-slash-maid of honour?” said Richie.

“Fuck traditions,” shrugged Beverly. “And no offence, but I do not trust you with organising a wedding.”

“That’s fair,” said Richie who could barely organise his own life. “So when’s the special day?”

“January sometime,” Beverly replied. “We’ll have a little ceremony with just the Losers, then a bigger one with family and colleagues and everything.” She smiled, her eyes twinkling like she could already envision the day. 

Richie couldn’t help but smile too. “Sounds perfect,” he said, honest and sincere for once. 

Beverly pulled him into another hug then stood. “I’d better be off,” she said. “There’s so much shit to do, you have no idea. I’ll let you get back to your-” She glanced around at the six-pack of beers, the TV, and the general mess - “busy schedule,” she finished.

“Do I detect a hint of judgement?” Richie said, raising an eyebrow as he walked her to the door.

“None at all,” said Beverly, smiling innocently. “See you later, babe.”

“Farewell, honey-bun,” said Richie with a wink and Beverly rolled her eyes before making her exit.

Richie returned to his well-worn spot on the couch with a grin still plastered on his face. He hadn’t been to a wedding in years, and definitely not one for people he actually cared about. One where he’d be surrounded by the people he loved most in the world.

Halfway through another sitcom episode, he pulled out his phone and shot a text to Ben: 

[8:57] **Richie:** Congratulations hot stuff how much did you fork out for that ring?

A reply arrived only a few minutes later full of heart and sparkle emojis that Ben was overly fond of using. 

[9:01] **Handsome Haystack:** I can’t believe she said yes!!!!! And ok it was a lot but still less than she’s worth

[9:02] **Richie:** Thanks gonna go vomit now brb

[9:02] **Handsome Haystack:** Ur just jealous

[9:04] **Richie:** Well how can I not be? It’s not my fault you’re so stinking hot now!! Bev better watch out

There were a good few splurges of keyboard smashes before another text came through:

[9:09] **Handsome Haystack:** Oh Rich you know you've only gotta ask ;)

Richie snorted.

[9:10] **Richie:** Hi Bev you got back quick

[9:10] **Handsome Haystack:** Ben was waiting down the street :)

[9:12] **Richie:** Give him a smooch from me

Another round of keyboard smashes, then: 

[9:15] **Handsome Haystack:** So Bev says hi

[9:16] **Richie:** Did she give you that smooch?

[9:16] **Handsome Haystack:** She did

Richie could imagine the crimson blush spread across Ben’s face and grinned.

[9:18] **Richie:** Soooo who are you picking as best man? Shame I can’t do both

[9:19] **Handsome Haystack:** Eddie and Mike

[9:19] **Handsome Haystack:** We have other plans for Bill

[9:20] **Handsome Haystack:** And uhh just so you know

[9:20] **Richie:** What?

[9:23] **Handsome Haystack:** It’s a tradition for the maid of honour to dance with the best man

[9:23] **Handsome Haystack:** Man of honour in this case of course

Richie blanched. He’d have to dance with Eddie… Or Mike, of course, but… Well, if he had to choose...

[9:28] **Richie:** What happened to Bev saying fuck tradition??

[9:28] **Handsome Haystack:** She’s very insistent on this one

“That sneaky little-” Richie muttered under his breath, picking up his can of beer for strength.

[9:29] **Handsome Haystack:** And you’ll also be walking down the aisle together

This was almost to much for Richie’s system and he started choking on the beer he’d just taken a sip of.

[9:30] **Richie:** Do I have to???

[9:30] **Handsome Haystack:** For the bride :)

Richie swore under his breath.

[9:34] **Richie**: Fine.

[9:34] **Handsome Haystack**: Love you! xoxo

Richie grunted and turned off his phone, then turned it back on again to send a begrudging ‘Love you too’. He went back to staring at the TV but didn’t take any of it in.

He’d have to dance. With Eddie.

Walk down the wedding aisle. With Eddie.

He hadn’t even let himself dream of such things. 

He ran a hand down his face, his stubble rough on his palm, and groaned. Then he grabbed another beer and decided he’d deal with this in the morning after he’d drunk every can he had.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Time for some wedding dress shopping m'dudes.

Summer was just leaning into fall when Beverly called on the combined forces of the Losers to help her pick out a wedding gown. Though Ben was absent for obvious reasons, it was nice for the majority of the group to all be together again, especially without the looming threat of a homicidal clown, and especially with Stanley joining them. White scars shone glaringly bright on his wrists whenever his sleeves rode up, but no one mentioned it. They were just glad he was alive and happy now.

They all piled into Beverly’s car, though there wasn’t that much room for them. Richie called shotgun and Eddie ended up having to sit half on Mike’s lap in the back, squeezed between him and Bill. He ranted about how dangerous it was for the most of the drive until Mike reminded him that he’d once crashed his car because he’d been on the phone and this definitely wasn’t as risky. 

They eventually arrived at a Bridal Store in the centre of the city, the kind of place so fancy that the champagne was complementary and the dresses sold cost more than a family home. It was hard to forget that Ben was a wealthy architect and Beverly formerly a highly successful fashion designer. Eddie wondered vaguely if her company had designed wedding dresses, but he figured she wouldn’t want anything to do with them considering what had happened between her and her ex-husband.

“This is… unusual.” The store attendant in the bridal boutique eyed the five middle-aged men flanking Beverly wearily. “I’m used to young, well, _ ladies _ aiding the bride in picking out a dress.”

Eddie opened his mouth to go off at her about gender stereotyping but Stanley pinched his arm to silence him and Beverly took control.

“They’re my boys,” she said, her eyes narrowed almost imperceptibly at the store attendant as if daring her to say anything else. “They’re here to help me pick out a dress.”

“Yeah and if you’ve got any dresses my size, too, that’d be swell,” added Richie with a wink.

The shop attendant gave him a partially horrified look before laughing awkwardly and turning away to lead them into the main part of the store. “Follow me, please.”

“I was being serious,” Richie whined and Stan rolled his eyes. Eddie just gave him an unamused glance though, honestly, he wouldn’t protest to seeing Richie in a dress, if only to take as many blackmail-worthy photos as possible.

“You know these dresses have been tried on before by dozens of women,” Eddie told Beverly as they walked to an open corner of the room full of wedding dress racks, mirrors and plush velvet seats. “So you’re not just trying on a dress, you’re trying on all those women’s sweat and bacteria.”

“Take a chill pill, Eduardo,” Richie said and Eddie scowled at him. “It’s not like _ you _ have to try them on.”

“I’m just saying-”

“I’ll be fine,” said Beverly. She gave Eddie a smile to show she was more amused than annoyed. “Contrary to what you may believe, human beings possess immune systems.” 

She moved away to view some dresses and Eddie grimaced as her hands brushed the most likely bacteria-laden fabric but he kept his mouth shut.

“Do you th-thh-think he’s going to explode,” he heard Bill whisper to Mike and he shot them both a glare, eliciting a few snickers and winks from the pair in response.

Beverly finally selected a few dresses and went off with the attendant to the dressing room, and Eddie took a seat on the nearest loveseat beside Stanley before promptly having to scooch over when Richie squeezed himself between them both. Eddie tried not to focus too much on the fact that their thighs were pressed closely together.

“There’s other seats, asshole,” he said, elbowing Richie. 

“Oh, but this is so cosy!” Richie grinned and slung his arms around the men either side of him. 

“You better have washed your fucking hands.”

“I washed them this morning just for you, Eddie-spaghetti.”

“You stopped to use the bathroom like ten minutes ago, you-”

“That’s it,” Stanley interrupted, extracting himself from Richie’s arm to perch on the couch arm beside Bill and Mike instead. “The sexual tension is too thick next to you two.”

Eddie felt his face go bright red and he ignored it, sticking his middle finger up at Stanley who just gave him his signature deadpan expression. Richie, for once, seemed to be stuck on what to say and settled on sticking his finger up at Stan too. He didn’t remove his arm from Eddie’s shoulder and Eddie didn’t make him.

He didn’t have to dwell on it for long before the attendant returned. 

“She’ll be through in just a moment,” she announced just before Beverly emerged from the changing room clad in a beautiful gown, fine white vines embroidered along the hem that glistened with the movement of fabric as she walked.

“Woah,” said Bill at the same time Mike said, “You looking gorgeous, Bev.”

Beverly smiled at them both before turning to frown at herself in the mirror. “I don’t know,” she said, chewing her lip. “Maybe I’ll just try on a few more.”

It ended up being more than a few, each just as beautiful as the last with a few garish ones possessing large bows or frills thrown in just for the Losers’ amusement. Beverly tried on dress after dress, the clock on the wall showing one hour had passed, then two, and the store attendant was looking more and more agitated.

“What’s wrong, Bev?” said Mike at last when Beverly was in danger of gnawing a hole into her own lip while she stared at her reflection.

“I don’t know. I-” She frowned at herself, brushing imaginary creases out of the current dress as if it would change anything. “None of them feel right.”

Mike stood to stand beside her, looking at her reflection with her. “How come?”

“I just-” Beverly frowned again. Her gaze was fixed on her sleeve, her fingers running over the white mesh that hung there as though it was more appealing than having to look at her reflection. “I’ve done all this before,” she said finally. “And it- It’s like it’s too familiar.”

Mike gave her shoulder a reassuring squeeze and she gave him a thankful smile though it didn’t linger for long on her face.

“Well, B,” said Richie. He stood from the couch and Eddie instantly felt cold without the warm figure beside him. Richie walked up to the mirror and stood on Beverly’s other side, him and Mike framed in the reflection like two bodyguards flanking her. “No one ever said you have to wear white.”

Beverly blinked at her reflection. “It’s a… tradition.”

“You have two maids of honour,” said Stanley, “who are both men.”

“Yeah, fuck tradition,” said Eddie. 

“You know you c-could turn up dressed like R-Rrr-Ronald McDonald and Ben would still think you were the mm-most beautiful woman in the world,” said Bill. 

“You could dress like fucking _ It _ and he’d still marry you,” said Richie. “Don’t do that though.”

“The guy’s got it bad,” Mike agreed.

Beverly swept one last look over her reflection, then turned to the rest of the men in the room. Her boys. 

“Fuck tradition,” she said, her mouth finally curving up into a genuine grin. “I’m gonna save a fucking fortune.”

The store attendant was not best pleased, to say the least, after spending two hours helping Beverly try on dresses only for her not to buy anything. But the bride wants what the bride wants, and the group left the store snickering at the look on the attendant's face. 

They let loose on the town, hitting far less classy stores, and Beverly tried on an assortment of colourful dresses that were just as gorgeous as the wedding gowns if not more so. These stores were probably even less sanitary than the bridal boutique, but Eddie watched Beverly’s gleeful face as she spun around in pretty dresses and persuaded Richie to try some on too so they could both parade dramatically down the store aisles as though they were catwalks, and he kept his mouth shut. And in the end, Beverly finally found that perfect dress, one that wasn’t remotely white but that made her glow all the more for it. She was stunning, and Eddie for one couldn’t wait to see her wear it on her wedding day, and the look on Ben’s face when he saw her walking down the aisle.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a little thing: changed the wedding date to January for obvious reasons. I'm just a dumb.

“Time to place bets,” said Richie as the Losers - including Ben who they’d met with on the way back from shopping - stepped foot over the threshold of the restaurant. “How long ‘til we get kicked out of this place?”

“Ten minutes,” said Stanley.

“Harsh.”

“Five if you sit next to Eddie.”

Richie placed a hand over his heart in feigned offence. “You wound me.”

“He’s guh-got a point,” said Bill and Richie thumped his arm.

The waitress who met them at the door led the group to their reserved table in a private corner where they’d be least likely to disrupt other guests. It was so familiar, the Losers Club all taking their seats around a large round table to eat and laugh and catch up on each other’s lives after so long apart. But it was so different, too. They still had their memories, there was no weight of a malevolent entity resting in the air above them, and there were no seats left empty.

Stanley sat between Bill and Beverly, glasses perched on his nose as he scanned the menu. “So everything's on you, right Ben?” he said, looking up at his friend with a playful and slightly mischievous smile.

“You wish,” said Ben, flicking a crumb of complimentary bread at him. “I know for a fact every one of you is well off.”

“I vote Bill pays,” said Richie. “He’s just got that new hit book out. Bestseller. With an actually decent ending.”

“Fuck off,” said Bill, the corner of his mouth tilted up. “Didn’t you just get a contract for a rrr-r-radio show? If anyone’s paying, it's you, jackass.”

“That was supposed to be a big surprise!” Richie protested. “Now the big reveal I planned is ruined!”

“You’ll just have to think of something else,” said Mike. “Congrats anyway, man.”

“Let’s save the toasts ‘til we have drinks,” said Beverly, flagging down a waitress. 

“Do you have a gluten-free menu?” Eddie asked once the waitress had arrived.

“No fucking way are you hypoglycaemic too,” Richie snorted.

“No, but there have been studies to suggest gluten increases your risk of intestinal cancer-”

“That’s such bullshit.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, are you a doctor?”

“Three minutes,” said Stanley which shut them both up for the time being.

“Alright, I’ll need you to give the chef a list of my allergies,” Eddie said, returning to speaking with the waitress, the poor girl looking a little terrified under his intense expression. “It’s very important. I could realistically die.”

Richie listened to him ramble off a list of food items about a mile long and marvelled at how he had anything left to eat. He spoke so fast, so passionate about everything, his hands flying all over the place as he spoke, and Richie felt kind of bad for the waitress who was frantically trying to scribble everything down in her notebook, but Ben would no doubt give the girl an enormous tip to make up for everything, so he didn’t dwell on it much, just watched Eddie’s face as it cycled through about a million expressions.

“Richie?”

Richie blinked and looked up to see that another waitress had arrived to ease off some of the workload from the first, and the rest of the Losers were looking at him expectantly.

“Drinks?” Beverly prompted when Richie just stared at them all blankly.

“Shots!” said Richie instantly, clapping his hands together. If he was already getting distracted by Eddie, he sure as hell needed alcohol to get through the rest of dinner. 

“No way. You are at least staying semi-sober tonight,” said Beverly. “He’ll have a beer.”

Richie pouted at her but didn’t protest, and the waitresses finally went away. Drinks arrived, then food - a huge sharing platter of sushi - and the Losers slipped easily into comfortable conversation, laughing and joking and reminding each other of embarrassing moments from childhood, then catching up on their lives.

“So, Stan, you and the missus went on a trip with Mike, right?”

“Yeah, it was great until he tried to push me into the grand canyon.”

“That was an accident!”

“It so was not!”

Another round of beers came and went, empty bottles piling up in the centre of the table.

“So the divorce finally went through, Eds?”

“Yep.”

“Did your mom make it difficult?”

“Her name is  _ Myra _ , and no, it was fine.”

“That easy?”

“We had a prenup. I’m a fucking  _ risk analyst _ , you think I wouldn’t be prepared?”

The sushi plates emptied and the second-course was served. Richie finally persuaded Beverly to let him order shots and downed three in one go.

“So you two, like, got a dog? What’s its name?”

“She’s called Ember-”

“Is that after that fucking poem?!”

“That’s adorable.”

“I just threw up in my mouth you two are disgusting.”

“Shut up, Trashmouth.”

Once Richie was drunk enough that he lost any trace of verbal filter he may have possessed, the Losers inevitably turned the conversation on him.

“So about this radio show,” said Ben.

Richie was leaning his chair back on two legs precariously, eyes closed and smiling vaguely at the warm, full feeling in his chest, though whether it was being around his friends or just the surplus amounts of alcohol he wasn’t sure. “What about it?” he said, slurring the words a little.

“Come on, man, I know you’re dying to brag about it,” said Mike. “Why the big change?”

Richie tipped his chair back to all four legs and shrugged. “I don’t know what to tell you guys. My manager booted me after I bombed my show and fucked off to my childhood home to do shit I couldn’t tell him about, so I ended up with a new guy who thinks I’d be a great radio personality.”

“Are you actually gonna do your own jokes?” said Eddie.

“You know what, Eddie-spaghetti? I am.” He waved his hands in the air vaguely. “Whole fresh start, ya know?”

“That’s great, Rich!” said Bill, leaning across the table to give Richie a friendly bump on the shoulder.

“Wait, wait,” said Stanley, “how come you weren’t writing your own jokes before?”

“Hey, it wasn’t like I didn’t try!” said Richie suddenly feeling a little sick and wishing he had listened to Beverly telling him not to drink so much. “My old manager just didn’t go for it.”

“How come?” said Ben.

Richie waved his hand and grunted. “I dunno, jj-just uh -” Shit he was really drunk. “It was a lot of, like, personal shit, ya know? Dude said no one would relate and it would flop I guess.”

“What kind of personal shit?” said Eddie who suddenly seemed a lot more attentive.

Richie swallowed. “Just- just shit.” He waved a hand again and suddenly became very aware that all the Losers were looking at him. “I- fuck.” He rubbed a hand down his face, dislodging his glasses, then grabbed a glass of water and splashed a little on his face. He was way too drunk to start talking about personal stuff, but here he was. “Guys, I gotta tell you something.”

“What’s up, man?” said Bill, concern clear on his brow. Damn that bastard for being such thoughtful friend.

“I, uh, shit.” Richie pressed his palms to his eyes to avoid looking at his friends, his glasses pushed up over his knuckles. “I’m, uh, I’m… How do I put this eloquently? Super fucking gay.”

The room was silent with just the lull of other customers in the background, and Richie lowered his hands just enough to peek through his fingers at his friends, a part of him expecting awkward silence, disgust, loathing… But they were all grinning.

“That’s great, man,” said Bill.

“Proud of you, Rich,” said Stan.

“Thanks for telling us, honey,” said Bev, squeezing his knee under the table.

Richie blinked at them. “You, uh, don’t seem surprised…” His friends glanced sheepishly at each other. “Don’t you fucking dare tell me you already knew!”

“Of course we didn’t know!” said Stanley. “You never told us, how could we know?”

“We suspected,” said Mike slowly. “A little…”

“You overcompensate a lot, man,” said Ben apologetically. 

“Way too many ‘your mom’ jokes,” agreed Eddie.

“Well, that’s just fucking great!” said Richie, throwing up his hands. “This shit’s been eating away at me for fucking years, I had that dumb fucking clown mocking me for it, and you’re telling me I was a fucking coward for nothing!”

“You're not a cuh-c-coward, Rich, you’re the b-bravest of us all,” said Bill, his expression one of utmost honesty. 

“No one can blame you after growing up in that crap-town,” said Stanley. “Be proud, Rich. You’re the first of us to openly say anything.”

“The first-” Richie repeated, then stopped, looking around at his friends with wide eyes as they all nervously fiddled with drinks and avoided eye contact. “Are you fucking telling me I don’t even get to be the token gay in the Losers Club?!”

“Oh, honey, this has always been more of a ‘token straight’ club,” said Beverly, nudging her thumb not-so-subtly at Ben.

“I was born this way, I can’t help it,” Ben shrugged.

“Seriously?” said Richie, looking at each of his friends in turn before his eyes finally landed on Eddie. “Et tu, Eduardo?” he said, part of him dreading the answer, whichever it may be.

Eddie glanced up at him, pulling that awkward white boy, no-lipped smile. “Why do you think I got a divorce?”

“Coz you married your fucking mom!” said Richie because this seemed obvious. 

“Other reasons, too,” said Eddie, acting way too interested in his glass of water. “We never, uh-” He coughed. “Never managed to…  _ consummate _ anything.”

Richie gaped open-mouthed at him, then burst out laughing. “Holy fucking shit, Eds!” he exclaimed, tears in his eyes as the other Losers tried to hide their own snickers behind their hands. “Are you still a fucking virgin?”

“No, I’m not a fucking virgin you fucking asshole,” said Eddie, instantly back to his usual defensive self.

“Are you sure about that?”

“If anyone’s a fucking virgin here, it’s you, dickwad!”

“Just coz I managed to fuck your mom and you didn’t.”

“We just established you’re fucking gay and you’re still at it with the ‘your mom’ jokes?!”

“Guys, GUYS!” Beverly interrupted, having to shout just to be heard over their bickering. She held her glass aloft. “I propose another toast before we get kicked out again.”

“To you and Ben,” said Bill, raising his glass too.

“To leaving that shit-hole town behind us,” said Mike.

“To Rich,” said Eddie, glancing at Richie and smiling slightly in a rare moment of softness.

“To not being straight,” said Stan.

“Do I join this one?” Ben whispered to Beverly.

“Sweetheart, you’re marrying me, you have to join whether you like it or not,” Beverly replied.

“To the Losers Club!” yelled Richie, and they all brought their glasses to the centre of the table, the chimes ringing out across the restaurant as they clashed lightly together. 

They all downed their drinks and fell back into their seats as one, and Richie leaned back and looked around the table at each of his friends in turn. To Beverly, Ben, Stan, Bill, Mike, and to Eddie. His family, who loved him unconditionally, who accepted him as he was and always would. He smiled softly to himself.

To the Losers. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Stay tuned for bachelor/bachelorette party shenanigans coming soon...


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Time for some drunken shenanigans....

Beverly’s bachelorette party was a blur of laughter, loud music, and alcohol. A lot of alcohol.

Eddie was sensible when it came to drinking. He drank as much water as alcohol to keep hydrated and he measured his intake of units carefully because he liked having a working liver, thank you very much. The other Losers had no such qualms and Eddie suspected the night would end with one of them in the ER getting their stomach pumped.

Richie was hosting the party at his place, a huge modern house in the suburbs of Los Angeles where the local law enforcement was likely to get a noise complaint about Richie from about three famous actors and a musician who lived on the same street.

Though there were only six of them - Ben being absent for obvious reasons - they created enough chaos for a party of six hundred. Richie had ordered a male stripper which Beverly was thrilled with. She ended up taking body shots off the guy’s bare torso while the others cheered, and when she finished, tequila dribbling down her chin, she turned the stripper on Richie and Eddie tried to keep down the boiling jealousy rising in his stomach at Richie’s dark red blush and flustered expression. Eddie ended up grabbing the bottle of tequila from Mike and chugging half the remaining alcohol, unit intake be damned.

“Oh my fucking god!” Beverly cried out suddenly. “We should- we should like- like play kids party games! Like spin the bottle an’ shit!”

“Truth or dare!” yelled Stan.

“I fucking hate truth or dare!” Richie yelled back, shoving Stan’s face clumsily and nearly tripping over his own feet.

“I will give you this donut!” Stan declared, grabbing one from the food table Mike had layed out before the party as though it wasn’t free for all.

“Deal!”

“Truth or dare, Trashmouth?”

“Dare! Lay it on me, Stan-the-man!”

“Striptease for Eds,” Stanley said immediately and Eddie felt his face go bright red.

“No fucking way!” he said. “I don’t wanna see that.” That was a lie.

“Do it! Do it! Do it!” Bill, Mike and Bev chanted as one and the stripper joined in.

“Get fucking ready, Eduardo!” Richie declared as Bill shoved Eddie into the closest seat. “But if you get a boner on me, I’m outta here!”

Eddie could not promise that wouldn’t happen and he clamped his hands over his eyes as Richie started taking off his jacket to Bev wolf-whistling.

“Oh, come on, Eds, you gotta look!” Stan cried.

“That wasn’t the agreement!” Eddie yelled back, squeezing his eyes shut as someone - probably Bill - tried to wrench his hands away. His mind, however, would not stop picturing what Richie was doing, and that was almost worse than the actual show.

“Aww, come on, Eddie’s uncomfortable,” Mike said sympathetically and Eddie was eternally grateful for his thoughtful friend. “Give Rich the donut before he takes off his boxers. No one wants to see that.”

“Worried all my size jokes were true?” said Richie, and Eddie opened his eyes to see him wink at Mike as he pulled his trousers back on. His chest was still bare and Eddie looked away quickly before his dick really did betray him.

“Put the tits away before Eddie bursts!” Bev said, smacking her hands on Richie’s chest as though she were playing the bongos.

“Like what you see, babe,” said Richie, sticking out his chest.

“Oh, you know it, babe,” Bev replied.

“Leave Ben and run away with me, sugar-boots.”

“Oh, sweetums, I’d love nothing more.” Bev leaned up as though to kiss Richie, then stole his glasses instead.

“Hello, I’m Trashmouth Tozier,” she said in an exaggerated weedy voice then immediately started cackling.

“Gimme, gimme!” yelled Bill, snatching the glasses from Bev before Richie could get them. “Hey, Eddie-ssspaghetti,” he said, voice even weedier than Bev’s impersonation as he turned to Eddie. He didn’t stutter much when he was drunk, but he slurred something awful. “I fffucked your mother even though I’mmm a huge virgin and allll I do isss play street-fighter!”

“I do not fucking sound like that!” Richie yelled, trying to snatch his glasses back but missing as a result of his slowed reflexes, impaired vision, and Bill dodging out of the way.

Bill whipped the glasses off and tossed them to Mike. “Hide them, hide them!” he yelled and Mike shot out of the room. 

Richie tried to chase him but tripped over a chair leg, faceplanting the floor. He didn’t bother getting up and just rolled over pitifully.

“What happened to truth or dare?” he whined. “You guys are fucking bullies.”

“We love you, Richie,” said Beverly, still giggling.

“I don’t. I fucking hate you,” said Stanley.

“You love him, you fucking liar,” Beverly shouted, tackling Stan into the couch and smushing his face into a cushion until he cried out, “Okay, okay! I love you too, Rich!”

Eddie just shook his head at his friends’ antics, then set about clearing away some empty bottles because a vision-impaired Richie could well end up bumping into or breaking some, and broken glass was just a huge safety hazard. 

When he finally located Richie’s kitchen with his arms full of empty bottles, he found what could only be described as a fucking dumpster. There were dirty dishes piled up in the sink and takeout containers lying around, and when he opened the fridge half of the stuff inside was growing its own ecosystem. The place was just a health and safety hazard, so he pulled out drawers and opened cupboards until he found rubber gloves, dish rags and bleach, and he set about cleaning the entire kitchen.

He returned to the party an hour later smelling faintly of lemon dish soap to find that the stripper had gone home and his friends were, if possible, even drunker than before. Richie was stumbling around still looking for his glasses and the others were huddled together in a corner giggling about something.

“Oh hey, Eds, Richie’s been looking for you,” Beverly said when Eddie approached them and the others instantly burst into another fit of giggles.

Eddie narrowed his eyes at them. “What’s so fucking funny?”

“We’re renaming the club,” Mike wheezed, eyes watering.

“We’re the ‘had Richie Tozier’s tongue down our throats’ club now,” Stan said.

“You gotta do the initiation, man,” said Bill.

“Oh for fuck's sake,” said Eddie, eying the still stumbling Richie. “How drunk is he?”

“So fucking drunk,” said Beverly between giggles.

“I gave him a bottle of vodka and told him it was water and he drank half of it before he noticed,” said Stan, snorting.

“You are all fucking terrible friends,” Eddie told them before walking up to Richie. “Hey, Rich, come on, man.”

Richie turned to him, squinting, then his face split into a wide grin. “Eddiieeeeeee!” he practically screamed. “Eddie, my love, I love you so!” he was singing now and very out of tune. Eddie hated that song.

“Yep, come on, Rich, we better get you to bed,” he said. He tried to take Richie’s shoulder, but Richie stumbled forward and Eddie caught him reflexively. “Woah, careful, Trashmouth.”

“Eddie, Eddie, Eddie-spaghetti.” Richie reached up to poke the scar on Eddie’s cheek, making no move to pick himself up. ”You’re so goddamn pretty, Eds.” He pinched his cheek affectionately. “Cute, cute, cute!”

“That’s nice, Rich,” said Eddie, swatting Richie’s hand away and blushing slightly even though he knew this was only the alcohol talking. He pulled Richie into a standing position, hands at the ready to catch him if he fell again, but he only swayed slightly, staring at Eddie with a stupid grin on his face even though Eddie was probably just a blur to him.

“Eddie, Eddie,” Richie slurred again, then without warning, he lurched forward and jammed his tongue in Eddie’s mouth.

It took an enormous amount of effort for him to push Richie away, partly because Richie was very insistent and partly because he didn’t really want him to stop. When he finally managed, Richie let out a low whine that made Eddie want to push him up against the wall, but he would not take advantage of a drunk Richie. 

He caught sight of Stan holding up his phone camera out of the corner of his eye and stuck his middle finger up at him.

“Come on, Trashmouth,” he said, guiding Richie to the stairs. “Bedtime.”

Eddie helped Richie up the stairs and, after trying several doors, found what he could only assume was Richie’s bedroom as it was the only room covered in piles of laundry with an unmade bed. It also had Richie’s glasses set neatly on the bedside table because of course Mike wouldn’t actually hide them.

Eddie gathered up the bulk of the laundry and put it in the hamper so Richie wouldn’t trip over it, then turned to find Richie had wrestled himself out of his jeans and jacket. He grabbed Richie’s wrist before he tried to take off his shirt or, god forbid, his boxers.

“I think that’ll do, bro.”

Richie just shrugged, murmuring something unintelligible, then collapsed onto the bed. Eddie pulled the sheets up over him, then returned downstairs to fetch a glass of water and aspirin. He returned, made Richie sit up to sip the water, then refilled it in the bathroom sink and set the glass on his bedside table beside the aspirin and the glasses. He turned to leave but stopped when Richie called out to him.

“Eddie?” Richie was half asleep now, his speech even more slurred then before. He looked up at Eddie, his eyes bleary. “Eds, I gotta tell you s’mthin’.”

“What, Rich?” said Eddie, turning back and kneeling beside the bed.

Richie reached out and grasped at Eddie’s shirt, his hand bunched in the fabric right over the spot where Eddie sported a huge scar courtesy of a certain clown.

“Eds, ‘m so glad you're alive.”

Eddie smiled. “Me too, Rich.”

“You’re m’ favourite person.”

“Don’t let Bev hear you say that,” Eddie joked, though inside his heart was trying to rip its way out of his chest.

“Really, Eds,” Richie slurred. “I love you so much.”

“I love you too, Rich,” said Eddie because it was true, though not in the way Richie or any of the Losers loved him, and that broke his heart just a little.

“No, no, no,” Richie whined. He turned slightly and buried his face in his pillow. “You don’ un’erstan’.”

“What don’t I understand, Rich?” said Eddie, heart beating a little too quickly, but Richie didn’t respond, and when Eddie gave him a nudge, he let out a huge snore and Eddie realised he’d passed out.

He sighed, then manoeuvred Richie to the recovery position so he wouldn’t choke on his own vomit in the middle of the night. He paused, then pressed a kiss to Richie’s temple, mostly because there was no way Richie would remember it even if he wasn’t passed out. He stood, then jumped when he turned and saw Bev standing in the doorway, his face immediately flushing when he thought of what she might have just seen.

“Heyyyy, Eds,” she said, grinning at him. She kissed his cheek then moved passed him and heaved herself onto the bed, tucking herself in beside Richie who gave a grunt at the movement but didn’t wake up.

“There are spare rooms, Bev,” Eddie said pointedly but she stuck her tongue out at him.

“I don’t have Ben and Richie is cuddly,” she said, wrapping her arms around Richie’s back and snuggling up to him. “The sleeping arrangement was agreed upon this morning.”

Eddie shook his head at the pair but smiled slightly, wishing he could be that close to Richie but knowing he couldn’t without giving himself away. Richie and Beverly had a special sort of friendship that they could be close like that while remaining completely platonic, but Eddie knew if he let himself get that close to Richie, if he let himself touch him like that knowing that he could never really have more, that they could never be more, then he’d break.

“Night, Bev,” he said, softly.

“N’night, Eddie Bear,” she said, her speech slurring even more with sleep. “Love you.”

“Love you too.”

Eddie closed the door softly behind him, then set off to find a spare room he could sleep in, trying all the while not to think of Richie or his drunken kiss or the things he’d said while half asleep and barely in control of his verbal filter. It didn’t mean anything, after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next up, Ben's party.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Time for the aftermath...

Richie awoke the next morning with a hangover far less jarring than he was expecting. His head still pounded and his dry mouth still tasted like shit, but he could move without wanting to die so that was something. The phenomenon was confusing until he remembered waking up in the middle of the night to find water and aspirin placed neatly on his bedside table. At the time, he hadn’t put any thought into how it had gotten there, but now he wondered who it might have been.

After several minutes spent building up the will to leave his cozy cocoon, he managed to extract Beverly’s arm from around his waist, shivering at the sudden lack of warmth, and stepped out of bed, instantly tripping over his tangled sheets and face planting the floor.

“Shut up,” he grunted when Beverly giggled. Of course she had to wake up in time to see that.

He picked himself up and made his way to the en suite bathroom on muscle memory alone since he couldn’t see shit without his glasses, then splashed water on his face and brushed his teeth for long enough to make Eddie proud, if only to remove the gross taste from his mouth.

He made his way back into his bedroom after freshening up, shoved his glasses back on and retrieved his phone from the pocket of his discarded jeans before crawling back into his still-warm bed beside a dozing Beverly.

“Wake up, asshole,” he said, poking Beverly’s cheek. “If I have to be awake and suffering, so do you.”

Beverly groaned and made to swat his hand away, but completely missed and smacked him in the face instead. She snorted at his ensuing yelp, even while sputtering out a quick, “Sorry, sweetie.” Then she made her way to the bathroom as Richie checked his messages.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” he muttered as ‘127 unread messages’ flashed up on the screen on The Losers’ group chat. He scanned the last few messages, which was hard since most contained atrocious typos from his drunken friends.

[1:52 am] **Eduardo Spaguardo:** Delete that fucking video Stan I swear to god.

[1:52 am] **Eduardo Spaguardo:** If Richie sees it I’m gonna kill you.

[1:55 am] **Not-so-flat** **Stanley: **Nahd bro sfucking makae me

[1:57 am]** Flowerpot man #1:** Wesll pute it isn a aslideshiow for youre vegas wedsing 

[1:58 am] **Eduardo Spaguardo:** Your typing is fucking awful.

[1:58 am] **Eduardo Spaguardo:** I have blackmail videos too you know.

[1:58 am] **Eduardo Spaguardo:** I’ll send them to your wives don’t think I won’t.

[2:01 am] **Eduardo Spaguardo:** Get back here assholes!!

[2:01 am] **Eduardo Spaguardo:** Stanley!!!!! Bill!!!

[2:02 am] **Mikey Mouse:** They passed out :(

[2:02 am] **Eduardo Spaguardo:** They better hope they stay in a fucking coma.

[7:43 am] **Flowerpot man #2:** Guys what the hell happened last night???

“What the fuck?” Richie mumbled to himself, scrolling back up on his phone, but Stan must have actually deleted whatever video they were talking about, the evidence that it was there at all shown only by a jarring gap in the flow of conversation. From:

[12:32 am] **Queen B: **Omg did yuo see the ass on thta stripper??

[12:34 am] **Flowerpot man #1:** Evrn juicer thsn Stan’s

[12:34 am] **Mikey Mouse:** Impsosible

To:

[1:13 am] **Not-so-flat Stanley:** Miskde yuo owes mae 30 buskcs1!!!1

[1:14 am] **Flowerpot man #1:** lol gay

[1:14 am]** Mikey Mouse:** Doesdn’t count!!!!!

[1:16 am] **Queen B: **Has to be mutual Stanley!

[1:17 am] **Not-so-flat Stanley: **Eds waas cleasrldy into it!!!!!!!!!

“Bev,” Richie called, frowning at his phone with growing dread. “Mind reminding me what the fuck happened last night?”

Beverly appeared in the bathroom doorway, toothbrush still in her mouth. “I don’t know, usual drunken shit?” she said, though the words were hard to make out through her mouthful of toothpaste. She spat the toothpaste into the sink and rinsed, then returned to leaning against the door. “I remember playing truth or dare, and we stole your glasses, and then…” Her eyes widened suddenly. “Oh shit.”

“What?” said Richie wearily, kind of dreading the answer but needing to know anyway.

“Okay, honey, promise you won’t freak out…”

“That is the number one way to freak someone out,” said Richie, beginning to freak out. “What the fuck did I do? Did I post a dick pic on twitter? Am I going to be on the news?”

“No, no, no, nothing like that,” said Beverly. She moved to sit on the bed beside Richie and took his hand reassuringly. “Everything that happened is just between The Losers. It’s just…”

“Just what?”

“Well, do you remember trying to stick your tongue down the throat of anyone who got within an inch of you?”

“Oh god,” said Richie, but honestly he’d expected worse. He’d always been kind of a ‘friendly’ drunk. “Is that all? Please tell me that’s all.”

“Well,” said Beverly, “do you also remember that the reason you tried to kiss anyone in sight was because you didn’t have your glasses on and you thought… Well, you thought we were Eds.”

Richie stared at her. “Oh no. Oh no, no, no.” He groaned and ran his hands down his face, his unshaven stubble scratching at his palms. “Are you sure? Coz, uh, maybe I just thought you were all Eddie’s mom.” He tried for a light-hearted grin but it came out as more of a shaky grimace.

“Oh, you made it quite clear, babe,” said Bev. “You screamed ‘Eddie’ at us right before. Mike would like to know if you’re colourblind.”

Richie buried his face in his hands and let out an even longer groan than before. “So everyone knows?”

“That you’ve got it bad for Eds? Yep.”

“Does _ Eddie _ know?”

Beverly scoffed at that. “God, no. He’s as dense as you are.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?!”

“Nothing,” said Bev, avoiding eye contact.

Richie groaned some more, then something occurred to him as his gut filled with growing horror. The missing video... “Wait, fuck, Bev, did I kiss _ Eddie _?”

Beverly didn’t answer right away. She was gnawing at her lip, her eyes looking anywhere but at Richie. “Well, yeah, but I doubt he thought it meant anything. I mean, you’d already made out with everyone else by that point. And- Oh fuck, there’s something else, babe.”

Richie stared at her. How could this possibly get any worse? “What?”

“Well, I didn’t hear everything coz I was in the hallway, but, um, you might have told Eddie you loved him-”

“_ What?! _”

“He was making sure you got to bed okay and-” Richie had leapt up at this point and was frantically pacing the room while Bev remained on the bed, her arms waving around frantically as she tried to explain. “I think he just thought you meant in a friendly way! He still doesn’t know anything, I promise!”

“Are you sure?”

“It’s Eddie!” said Beverly as if this settled matters. “He doesn’t know shit. If he didn’t know back when we were kids, he’s not gonna figure it out now.”

“He-” Richie stopped pacing abruptly and turned to look at Beverly who clamped both hands over her mouth as though she’d only just realised what she’d said. “You- you knew I liked him when we were kids?”

Beverly slowly lowered her hands from her mouth, her expression apologetic. “Oh, babe, everyone knew.”

“_ Everyone?! _”

“Well not Eddie,” said Beverly. “Listen, honey, this really isn’t as bad as you think. I mean, I think he likes you too.”

“Yeah right,” Richie scoffed. “Have you seen me?”

Beverly got off the bed and grasped both of Richie’s hands in hers, squeezing them as she looked up at him, her expression sincere and a little stern. “Honey, you are a fucking amazing, wonderful person, and also a weirdly good kisser, and if Eddie doesn’t see that, he doesn’t deserve you. But for the record, I’m pretty sure I’ve caught him checking out your ass.”

“When Stan’s ass is right there?” said Richie. “Damn, he must like me.”

“He does!” Beverly insisted. “Now grow some balls and ask him out! Preferably before the wedding or Stan and I will lose that bet we have against Mike and Bill.”

“You guys are betting on us?!”

“Just a little,” Bev grinned apologetically, then leaned up and kissed Richie on the tip of his nose. “Now don’t tell Mike or Bill you know about it or they’ll say I’m cheating.”

“You are all horrible friends,” said Richie, but he grinned back at her anyway, then retrieved his phone off the bed as Bev went to finish getting washed up. He contemplated his friends’ dumb messages for a minute, then sent one of his own:

[11:43 am] **Little King Trashmouth:** Sorry about last night Eduardo the resemblance between you and your mom is just too strong (~￣³￣)~

He didn’t have to wait long for replies:

[11:44 am] **Eduardo Spaguardo:** That is so not fucking funny

[11:45 am] **Flowerpot man #1:** Where do you keeping finding those faces???

[11:45 am]** Flowerpot man #2:** Seriously guys what the hell happened????????

Richie smiled down at his phone then shut it off for the time being. There was no way Eddie liked him, no matter what Beverly insisted, but Richie was just glad he hadn’t screwed things up. As long as they were still friends, as long as Richie still made ‘your mom’ jokes and Eddie still got mad at him for it, everything would be okay. And, hey, if Beverly was right, if Eddie did really like him like that, then maybe he’d let his guard down just a little, stop hiding behind so many jokes, let Eddie find his way through the gaps if he wanted to try. 

Whatever happened, happened, and Richie was okay with that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ben's party shall def come next


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay I've been dying of a cold :( Anyway here's some more Losers bonding enjoy

“Beer?”

Eddie accepted the bottle Ben handed to him and quickly checked the ingredients and alcohol percentage as Ben handed out the rest to the others.

“Thanks, man, but I think I’m gonna cut back on the alcohol intake,” said Richie, and Eddie looked over at him in surprise; Richie was never usually one to decline alcohol no matter how much Eddie pestered him about the state of his liver.

“We’ve got lemonade?” Ben offered.

“That’ll do.”

Richie accepted the glass and leaned back in the deck chair, eyes closed contentedly, his long legs stretched out in front of him and the beams of sunlight that filtered through the wooden planks from the balcony above lighting up strands of his dark hair in streams of gold. Eddie caught himself staring and looked away quickly, accidentally making direct eye contact with Stanley who just rolled his eyes. Eddie scowled at him in return.

Ben’s bachelor party was far more subdued than Bev’s; just the guys hanging out on the back porch of Ben’s frankly massive house, watching fall leaves drift down onto the garden, their warm hues lighting up in the glow from the afternoon sun. Warmth still lingered from summer but it wasn’t sweltering, and the Losers - minus Bev - were able to lounge around in light jackets while Ben grilled burgers and hotdogs on the barbecue, the smell of charcoal mingling pleasantly with the sweet scent of the fall air.

“You know shoes were invented for a reason,” said Eddie, grimacing as Ben accidentally dropped a scolding hot sausage onto his bare foot for the second time.

“If you say that again, I’m feeding you the floor hotdogs,” said Ben. “Shoes are restrictive.”

“Also protective.”

“Those floor hotdogs sure have a lot of germs on them, Eddie. You know this is where Ember does her morning piddles.”

Eddie nearly gagged. “And you’re walking barefoot there?!”

“I pressure wash it.” Ben lifted his foot and tried to stick it in Eddie’s face. “My feet are super clean. Here, smell them.”

“I’m not sniffing your fucking foot.”

“Lick it, Eds,” said Richie. “Once in a lifetime opportunity.”

“You are both fucking disgusting,” said Eddie, shoving Ben’s foot out of the way which threw him off balance and straight into Mike’s lap.

“Christ, man, are you sure you lost weight?” Mike groaned. “I think you just broke both my legs.”

“He replaced it all with muscle,” said Stanley, leaning forward to squeeze Ben’s bicep.

“Ooh, if he gets a squeeze,” said Richie, leaning forward too.

“Nope, nope, nope, we are not doing this again,” said Ben, extracting himself from Mike’s lap. “I have burgers to cook and bicep-squeezing privileges are for Bev’s hands alone.”

“Lucky lady,” said Richie with a wink, and Eddie tried not to let his jealousy show.

“So, guys, is anyone going to tell me what actually happened last night?” said Ben. “Bev refuses to say anything.”

Eddie sank down in his chair a little, hiding his face behind the beer bottle so no one could see how red it had gotten. Richie, on the other hand, didn’t seem at all ashamed.

“Let’s see, we got drunk, hired a stripper-”

“A stripper?” Ben squawked.

“Not as hot as you, don’t worry,” said Richie, winking again. “Got more drunk, played some party games, Eddie apparently decided to fuck off and clean my house-”

“It was fucking disgusting,” Eddie protested.

“He’s always been like that,” Bill snorted. “R-remember when we all had that sleepover at mine when we were like twelve and ss-stole my mom’s chardonnay and he ended up downstairs doing laundry?”

“Oh shit, that’s right!” cried Stan, grinning gleefully. “And your mom’s face when she came home and we were all throwing up but she didn’t even get mad coz the house was so clean!”

“Drunken housemaid, that’s our Eds,” said Richie, grinning over at Eddie fondly.

“Don’t call me Eds,” Eddie grumbled, sinking lower in his chair.

“So what happened after?” said Ben, smiling warmly at his friends’ stories as he piled burgers and hotdogs into buns and passed them out on paper plates.

“Then Richie got super friendly,” said Mike.

“I cannot be held responsible for what I did when drunk!” Richie protested, mouth full of burger. God help him, Eddie even found him cute with food spilling out of his mouth.

“What did he do?” said Ben, grinning already in anticipation.

“Only tried to make out with literally everyone there,” said Stanley.

“Did he now?” said Ben, grinning even harder. “I hope you’re not trying to steal my fiance.”

“She wasn’t into it,” Richie pouted. “But if you’re feeling left out, Benny-boy…”

Richie lunged towards Ben who managed to block him just in time, holding him away with ease and laughing as Richie made kissy noises and grabby hands at him.

“Ok, ok, you can kiss my cheek,” said Ben when Richie didn’t relent. Ben turned his cheek towards him and Richie leaned in but grabbed his face at the last minute and smashed their mouths together.

“Success!” cried Richie, pulling back and raising his hands in victory while Ben wiped his mouth and tried to stop laughing. “I have now made out with every Loser!”

“You d-d-didn’t use tongue with him, it doesn’t count,” said Bill.

“Don’t you dare,” said Ben, holding his hands out in front of him defensively when Richie looked like he was about to try again. “We’ll say it counts.”

Richie held up his hands in surrender and finally sat back down. “Whatever you say, Benny-boo.”

“You know how fucking revolting that is right?” said Eddie. “You know how many diseases pass via saliva? You could get mono, you know?”

“What’s the matter, Eddie-spaghetti, are you jealous?” said Richie, turning to grin at him obnoxiously.

“No, I’m not fucking jealous,” said Eddie which was a huge fucking lie.

“You know you’re still my number one guy, Eddie Bear,” Richie cooed, pinching Eddie’s cheek until Eddie swatted his hand away. “Well, right after your mom.”

“I hate you.”

“If that’s what you wanna call it,” coughed Stan and Eddie glared at him.

By the time everyone had eaten enough food to last them the whole winter, the sun was dipping low in the sky and the air had gained a chill more reminiscent of fall, so the Losers packed up the deck chairs and headed indoors to lounge on the stylish but comfortable couches and snoop through Ben’s things.

“Holy shit, you have all my shows on DVD?” said Richie from where he was sat cross-legged on the floor, eying up Ben’s impressive film collection as Ember snoozed in his lap, something that Eddie found revoltingly cute. “Didn’t know you were such a fan.”

“They’re Bev’s, actually,” said Ben. “From back before we all remembered. She said she never actually watched them but bought them all anyway coz she just liked having them.”

“Huh, that’s so weird,” said Richie, smiling slightly as he brushed his fingers over the plastic covers of the selection.

“I’ve seen them all,” said Eddie before thinking, and Richie looked sharply up at him, eyes wide.

“You have?” he said, his mouth splitting into a very egotistical grin

“Fucking hated them,” said Eddie, which wiped the grin straight off Richie’s face. “Your jokes never felt right. Guess subconsciously I just knew they didn’t sound like yours.”

“But you still watched them all?” commented Stanley.

Eddie shot him a look to tell him to shut his mouth, then shrugged. “I don’t know, I guess some part of me just…”

“Missed me?” Richie finished, that shit-eating grin back on his face.

“Yeah, whatever, dickwad,” said Eddie. “Myra fucking hated you, for the record.”

Richie gasped dramatically. “How could she? The love of my life!”

“I thought Eddie’s mm-mom was the love of your life,” said Bill.

“Same thing.”

Eddie threw a cushion at him and Richie batted it away before it hit the dog.

“You know, I went to one of your shh-sh-shows once,” said Bill as if only just remembering. “Friend of mine d-dragged me to it.”

“Did you at least like it, Big Bill?” said Richie as he put on his most exaggerated puppy dog face.

“As much as you liked the endings of my books,” said Bill, and Richie pouted, affronted. “Nothing beats real Rich’s jokes,” Bill added, which seemed to cheer Richie up.

“Don’t inflate his ego,” said Stanley, rolling his eyes. “He’ll never shut up now.”

“You know you love me, Stan-the-man.”

“So you read Bill’s books?” Ben asked Richie. “Before we remembered?”

“Oh yeah. Got the whole set back home,” said Richie.

“I went to a signing once,” said Stanley, and Bill looked over at him in surprise. “It was like your first book and I had no idea who you were, but you were in town so I went. Had no idea why, but-”

“Part of you knew,” finished Mike. “I went to one of those book signings too.”

It was Mike’s turn to be stared at.

“Yy-you did?” said Bill.

“Couldn’t stay long or I’d start forgetting, but yeah, man,” said Mike. “You were in Maine and I couldn’t resist.”

“But I wouldn’t have-” said Bill. “I didn’t recognise you.”

“No,” said Mike. “But it’s fine, man. You all remember now, that’s what matters.”

“But you could remember the whole time,” said Ben.

“That really must have sucked, man,” said Richie.

Mike shrugged, looking a little self-conscious. “I mean… Yeah. At first, when you’d just moved out and you never replied to any of my letters, I thought… I thought maybe you just didn’t wanna talk to me anymore.”

“Shit, man,” said Bill, reaching out to squeeze Mike’s hand. “You know we would never…”

“Yeah, I know,” said Mike. “I know you guys aren’t like that. That’s when I figured it had to have something to do with It.”

“You were still all alone,” Eddie said, almost a whisper. He couldn’t imagine what it would be like if he remembered the Losers while they couldn’t remember him, if they were out there living their lives while he was stuck at home with his mother, never responding to messages or calls. If he saw them in person only to be met with irrecognition, their eyes passing over him blankly as though he were just another stranger. And, god, if Richie ever looked at him like that...

“It wasn’t so bad,” said Mike, smiling at them all in a clear attempt to be reassuring. “I kept track of you, watched your careers grow. I was so proud of you all… I’m glad I can tell you that now. I love you guys.”

“You better shut up before Richie starts crying,” said Stanley who seemed to be the one actually close to tears. He smiled at Mike. “Love you too, man.”

“Yeah, thanks for dragging us all back to that shithole,” said Richie, “or we wouldn’t be here now.”

“I wouldn’t be getting married,” said Ben.

“I wouldn’t be divorced,” said Eddie. “That’s a good thing,” he added when Mike looked concerned.

“You mm-made me have to go back to speech therapy,” said Bill teasingly before nudging Mike with his shoulder and squeezing his hand again. “But it’s all worth it.”

“Gay,” said Richie.

“Aaand you ruined the moment,” said Eddie.

“Glad I could be of service.”

“God, how did we survive without each other?” said Ben. 

“Barely,” said Stan quietly, tugging down his sleeves a little.

The others fell silent for a time until Richie, being Richie, decided to lighten the mood.

“I’m thinking of getting a dog!” he said a little too brightly as he scratched Ember behind the ears. He grinned up at Eddie. “A little pomeranian called Penny. What do you think, Eds?”

“I am terminating our friendship effective immediately,” said Eddie, and just like that, the shadow that had fallen over them was lifted.

Ben lit a fire in the hearth and they all lounged around it, basking in the warm glow as they fell back into easy conversation. Ember migrated to Eddie’s lap which he was very smug about until Richie squeezed up next to him to be able to pet the dog, but Eddie was secretly quite content with a dog on his lap and Richie at his side, like something out of one of his more domestic fantasies.

Bill told ghost stories somehow scarier than their experience with Pennywise, and Stan calmed them all down afterwards by rambling about types of birds, which everyone paid rapt attention to because Stan talking about his favourite thing, his face lit up and hands waving around excitedly, was a joy to watch even if no one else cared all that much about the topic. 

Later on, Ben showed them all an old photo album he’d found at his parents’ house of them all as kids, and Mike pointed to the odd picture and excitedly reminded them all about the time they all dressed as each other for Halloween, or the time Richie got suspended for filling a kid’s locker with shaving foam for picking on Eddie, or the time they all went as each other’s dates to Homecoming and tried to dance all together in one chaotic circle.

The fire was warm, and the beer seeped into Eddie’s limbs and made him drowsy, his eyes slipping shut as he listened to Richie and Stanley argue over who had the better homecoming outfit. The next thing he knew, he was waking up in the middle of the night half-draped across Richie with his face buried in his chest, Ember curled up in the small space between them, Mike leaning against his shoulder with Ben against his, and Bill propped up against his legs with Stan’s head in his lap, all fast asleep. He’d fallen asleep with his phone in his hand, and when he checked it, he found a text from Bev who must have come home while they were all sleeping, for it showed a picture of them all cuddled up to one another fast asleep on the couch. He would have been annoyed, but he had to admit it was kind of cute.

[11:25pm]  **Queen B:** [image.jpg]

[11:25pm]  **Queen B:** My boys <333

Eddie smiled slightly and saved the photo to his camera roll, then let his head fall back against Richie’s warm chest, not really caring that the fabric of his shirt scratched his cheek or that no one had brushed their teeth. This was a night for the Losers.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soz for the wait. I'd make an excuse but ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯ life I guess. Anyway enjoy some Trashstack friendship :)

Tomorrow was the big day. It still hadn’t quite registered with Richie, that tomorrow two of his best friends would be getting married. It seemed like Bev had only just asked him to be her man of honour and then he’d blinked and suddenly the Losers - plus Audra and Patty - were checking into the fancy-as-fuck hotel where the reception would be held, and Ben and Bev were assigned separate rooms until the wedding had taken place, and Stan was running around with a headset trying to make sure the caterers would arrive on time and the flower displays were the ones they ordered and a bunch of other crap Richie stayed the hell out of for the sake of his sanity. Weddings seemed stressful as fuck, and Richie decided then and there that if he was ever going to get married, it would be while drunk as fuck in Vegas with only the Losers present and probably a shitty Elvis impersonator ordaining the whole thing.

“Your rooms are already booked,” said Stan, taking a short break from yelling into his headset. “Just give your name at reception.” He waved them over to the desk and went back to arguing with someone about the colour of the tablecloths.

Richie waited for Patty to collect hers and Stan’s keys, which took a few minutes as she was happily chatting with the receptionist about what kind of birds could be found in the area, and Richie smiled to himself because Stan really deserved someone like her in his life.

“Sorry, love, I won’t keep you waiting,” Patty said, blushing slightly as she remembered there was a queue behind her. She shuffled out of the way and went to chat with Audra and Bev, who seemed thrilled to have other women to talk to, and Richie moved up to the desk and gave the receptionist a smile.

“Richie Tozier,” he said.

“Richard?” the receptionist asked and Richie nodded. “Yes, I have you booked in for room 3b with Mr Edward Kasbrak.”

Richie, in a moment of pure elegance, started choking on air, and Eddie, who had been standing right behind him, shoved his way up to the desk.

“Excuse me? Why are we not in separate rooms?” he hissed, face red.

The receptionist looked a little frightened which Richie couldn’t blame her for; anyone not used to Eddie’s frequent tirades had a right to be terrified of how intense he could be.

“Um… I’m sorry, sir, but it was requested when the rooms were booked…”

“Stanley,” Richie growled, because who else would refer to him as ‘Richard’ when booking a room. “Stanley!” he shouted this time, turning to glare at his friend who only pointed to his headset and mouthed ‘Can’t talk, I’m on the phone,’ even while grinning gleefully at him. Richie flipped him off then turned back to the receptionist, trying to relax his face into a polite smile. “Do you have any other rooms available?”

The receptionist turned to her computer and clacked away at her keyboard, but frowned and shook her head. “I’m sorry, sir, we’re all booked up.”

Eddie pinched the bridge of his nose and it looked like it was taking all of his energy not to start screaming or at least run across the room and punch Stan in the face. “Are there at least two beds?” he said, voice hoarse.

“Just the one king-sized bed, I’m afraid,” the receptionist said. She looked terrified and Richie quickly put himself between her and Eddie to shield her from the waves of anger he was currently radiating.

“We’ll just take the key, thanks.”

The receptionist breathed a sigh of relief before passing over the keycards and Richie dragged Eddie away.

“Dude, it’s fine,” Richie said, trying to be reassuring even though internally he was screaming. “We used to share a bed whenever you slept over at my house, remember?”

“When we were kids,” hissed Eddie.

“It’s just for tonight,” said Richie. “Tomorrow night one of us can steal Ben or Bev’s room after they hitch up together.”

Eddie ran a hand down his face and groaned. “Okay, but we’re stealing all the complementary shit.”

“Of course.”

“And we’re murdering Stan.”

“I couldn’t do that to Patty,” Richie cried, putting a hand to his forehead dramatically.

“If we play our cards right, we can get her to help us,” said Eddie.

“You’re right,” said Richie, “but let’s wait until after the wedding.”

“Deal.”

They dropped their belongings off in their room and Richie stole both the pillow chocolates while Eddie inspected every inch of the room for germs or safety risks. Thankfully, the bed was big enough to fit every one of the Losers, and Richie doubted they’d even brush hands in the night. Then again, he seemed to remember that as kids, Eddie had always been a cuddly sleeper, always seeking out warmth, and Richie had woken up after many a sleepover with Eddie attached to him like a koala. He wondered if Eddie had changed at all.

They met back up with the Losers soon afterwards for dinner in the grand dining hall, and Richie was tempted to tell Bill and Mike that Stan was trying to meddle with their bet, but he was too caught up in devouring the delicious food. They stayed seated around the table long after the last morsels had been finished, chatting away as easily as they always had, and Richie was thrilled with a new audience of Audra and Patty to tell all his old jokes to and embarrass his friends with childhood stories. As it turned out, they had a few embarrassing tales of Bill and Stan of their own, and Richie listened raptly, silently adding the stories to his internal blackmail list.

Once the sky outside was freckled with starlight, they excused themselves to head to bed, wanting to get a good night’s sleep before the big day. Richie wasn’t tired just yet, so decided to explore the hotel, a mighty thing that was probably over a hundred years old, full of grand staircases and fancy paintings and probably a bunch of secret passageways. Richie wandered outside to the grounds, hands tucked deep in his pockets for warmth against the frigid air. The garden was a spectacle all on its own, with hedges neatly trimmed into animal sculptures and framed in moonlight, and an impeccably groomed lawn that stretched on for miles, the blades of grass shimmering gently in the breeze. And huge fountain stood at the centre, the water frozen over in midair and twinkling like diamonds under the starlight, and woodland bordered the lawn, pine trees towering over everything like silent guardians. He wondered how it would all look in the spring with flowers blooming in the flowerbeds and the fountain flowing freely, the water sparkling in the sunshine.

He made his way over to one of the benches that sat against the hotel wall facing the grounds and found it was already occupied.

“How you doing there, Haystack?” Richie greeted, taking a seat beside Ben who was fidgeting with a piece of paper in his hands. “Pre-wedding jitters?”

Ben gave him a shaky smile and nodded, folding up the piece of paper and slipping it into his jacket pocket. “Any minute now, I feel like I’m gonna wake up and realise this has all been a dream.”

“Long ass dream,” Richie commented. He leaned over and pinched Ben’s arm and grinned when he yelped. “Nope, you’re not dreaming!”

“Still hard to believe,” said Ben, rubbing his arm where Richie had pinched him. “If you went back in time and told thirteen-year-old Ben he’d be marrying Beverly Marsh, he would not have believed you.”

“If you went back in time and told little Ben he’d end up looking hotter than the Hemsworth brothers, he wouldn’t have believed you either, but here you are.”

“He wouldn’t know who the Hemsworth brothers were,” Ben laughed.

“Hotter than, uh...” Richie shrugged. “I dunno, who’s the hottest New Kids on the Block guy?”

“They’re all equally hot, I can’t choose,” Ben said, shaking his head solemnly.

“You’d go for an orgy, huh?”

Ben snorted and nudged Richie affectionately. “Shut up.”

Richie grinned and nudged him back. “Seriously, man, you’re gonna be fine. You and Bev are meant to be, trust me.”

“It’s still so surreal,” said Ben gazing up at the stars wistfully. “I’ve been in love with her since we were kids. Can you imagine-” He stopped short, glancing at Richie. “I mean-” He coughed - “It’s just- It’s just like a dream come true, really. That’s all.”

“I can imagine,” said Richie quietly. He was staring down at his shoes but didn’t miss the surprised look Ben sent his way. He cleared his throat before looking up at Ben once more and giving him a grin he hoped looked genuine. “You’re a lucky guy.”

Ben just looked at him, his eyes soft and brows furrowed slightly in concern, then he edged closer to Richie and took his hand. “Listen, man, if you ever wanna talk, I’m here.”

“Oh, I’m just fine, Benjamin,” Richie said with false cheer. “This is your big day!”

But Ben didn’t relent. “Seriously,” he said softly. “The other’s joke about it, I know. They think it’s just a crush. But I- I _ know _.”

That gave Richie pause. “You do?” he said, his voice coming out hoarser than he meant it to.

“Remember after we beat Pennywise and Eddie was hurt?” said Ben, and Richie nodded because he couldn’t possibly forget. It had been the worst time of his life. “You pulled him out of there and we had to drag you to the Quarry while he was in intensive care so we could clean up a bit and you just- You just started crying.” He paused, squeezing Richie’s hand a little tighter, and Richie just stared fixedly at the ground trying to suppress the emotions from that day that were trying to claw their way back up. “That,” said Ben. “That’s exactly how I would’ve reacted if- If it had been Bev.” He swallowed tightly as if the mere thought of Bev getting hurt caused him pain.

“You love him,” said Ben softly. It wasn’t a question, but Richie nodded anyway. “As long as I’ve loved Bev?”

“Longer, bitch, I’ve got you beat,” said Richie, trying for his usual humour except it came out as half a sob. “Shit,” he said, dragging his free hand down his face. “This is so stupid. I’m like a fucking school girl.”

“You’re not stupid, Rich,” said Ben. He smiled gently, always so soft and sincere. “You’re a lovesick fool, just like me.”

“Same thing,” Richie snorted. “But you can’t talk, you got her in the end.”

“Who says you won’t get Eddie?” said Ben.

Richie snorted again. “Look at you, and then at me. Hot Brazilian soccer player versus weird hobo who can never shut up. You could’ve gotten anyone you wanted.”

“I don’t think Bev likes me just for my looks,” said Ben. “At least I hope not. And I don’t think Eddie’s cares either. And shut up, you’re attractive! In like… an unconventional sense.”

“Thanks, man.”

“You know what I mean.” Ben nudged him again, grinning. “Personally, I think you’re just Eddie’s type. And I _ know _ he likes you.”

“Oh yeah?” said Richie. “And how come you’re so sure?”

Ben smiled softly again, his eyes twinkling brightly in the starlight and his expression so open and sincere. “Because he looks at you the way I used to look at Bev.”

Richie gaped at him, witty retort stuck on his tongue. He stammered, flustered, then shoved Ben away slightly, extracting his hand from his grip. “Yeah fucking right, Haystack. You just wanna win whatever bet you have with the others.”

“I never took that bet,” said Ben. He smiled at the surprised look Richie gave him. “I’m rooting for you no matter what you decide, Trashmouth. Whatever makes you happy.”

“You’re too good for this world, Benny-boy,” said Richie. “You’re gonna make a disgustingly wonderful husband.”

“I hope so,” Ben said. “She deserves the whole world.”

“Seriously gonna vomit,” Richie warned and Ben just laughed at him.

They sat there in companionable silence for a while, just gazing up at the stars until Richie figured his nose was gonna drop off from frostbite if he stayed outside any longer and he dragged Ben in with him, telling him to get a good nights sleep for the big day tomorrow.

Richie made his way back to his room a little apprehensively - Eddie would blow up if he got woken up - but he found the room empty. He checked his phone to find some texts from Eddie he’d missed while out with Ben. 

[10:23] **Spaghetti <3:** Don’t wait up

[10:23] **Spaghetti <3: **Staying with Bev tonight

Richie’s stomach filled with something akin to disappointment which was ridiculous; he’d spent his whole adult life not sharing a bed with Eddie and it wasn’t as though something would happen even if he was. He refused to let his disappointment show, even to himself, and sent a quick reply to Eddie.

[11:39] **Richie**: Sleeping with the bride on her wedding night?? How scandalous!

[11:40] **Spaghetti <3:** Shut the fuck up trashmouth

Richie smiled to himself at Eddie’s quick, ever-annoyed response. 

[11:41] **Richie: **Nighty night Eds

[11:42] **Spaghetti <3:** Night Rich

[11:42] **Spaghetti <3:** Don’t call me that

Richie tossed the phone on his nightstand. It was probably a good thing he had the room to himself; he’d probably be up all night having a gay panic with Eddie sleeping next to him and end up looking like a complete zombie on the wedding day. And besides, this meant he had the whole bed to himself. Room to stretch out without Eddie koala-clinging to him in the middle of the night. He definitely hadn’t missed that. At least, that’s what he kept telling himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologise for teasing with bed-sharing then not pulling through, but worry not! I have Plans~


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enjoy some Eddie and Bev bonding with some light angst sprinkled in

Tomorrow was the big day. Eddie let himself laugh with the others over dinner, listened to their stories and shared some of his own, but he could see there was something off about Bev. Her smiles seemed a little forced and her hands were always in motion, tapping away at her leg under the table. It could have been put down to pre-wedding jitters - Ben wasn’t too calm either - but this was something different, something Eddie recognised. 

When the Losers split up after dinner to head to bed or explore the hotel, Eddie followed Bev upstairs to a balcony overlooking the gardens where she lit up a cigarette and took a deep lungful of the vile smoke.

“If you say one word about cancer,” said Bev when she noticed him, “I’m throwing you off the balcony.”

Eddie leaned against the balcony railing beside her, upwind of the cigarette smoke so as not to breathe in the stuff. “How are you feeling?”

“Great!” said Bev, but it sounded kind of forced like she was trying to convince herself more than Eddie. “I’m great. I’m marrying the love of my life tomorrow, why wouldn’t I be?”

“Bev,” said Eddie simply, giving her a pointed look. She sighed in response and put her cigarette out on the railing, dropping the stub into an ashtray that sat atop a little table in the corner.

“I’m being ridiculous,” she said, head buried in her hands as she leaned heavily on the railing. “Ben is such a perfect guy - god knows what I did to deserve him - I just… This all feels so fucking familiar.” She dropped her hands, dangling them over the side, and shook her head. “I’ve had my fair share of shitty relationships, and I’ve just got this niggling thought in the back of my mind that it’s only a matter of time before this one goes to shit too.”

“You know Ben would never dream of hurting you,” said Eddie softly, remembering the dark bruises staining Bev’s arms when he’d first seen her again in Derry.

“I know,” said Bev. “I know that, I just… Being afraid is kind of hard to unlearn. It’s like… the default.”

“Yeah,” Eddie agreed.

“And it’s hard to trust my taste in men at this point.”

“Then trust me,” said Eddie. “Ben’s a fucking angel.”

Beverly smiled at that. “What did I do to deserve such sweet boys looking out for me?”

“You’re the one looking out for us more often than not,” said Eddie.

They stood there in silence for a while, watching the moon rise gradually in the darkening sky, flanked by millions of stars.

“Do you think things would have been different,” said Bev after a time, “if we’d remembered each other?”

“I don’t think it’s good to dwell on,” said Eddie. 

“Maybe I’d have ended up with Ben sooner,” said Bev anyway. “I’d never have married Tom.”

“I’d never have married Myra,” said Eddie, “because Richie would have made so many ‘your mom’ jokes I would have fucking  _ noticed _ .” He would have also remembered some other things with Richie around.

Beverly laughed, but it was humourless. “We both married our fucking parents. How fucked up are we?”

“Can you blame us?” said Eddie. “We had a pretty fucking traumatising childhood. And we got so used to that shit, it felt wrong without it.”

“Was she really as bad as your mom?” said Bev.

Eddie thought about it for a minute. “I don’t think she was a bad person,” he said at last. “At least, she didn’t mean to be. I feel like inside she was just as fucked up as I was. She just wanted to be needed. It was not a healthy relationship.”

Bev nodded slowly and went back to looking at the stars.

“Was Tom?” said Eddie after a while. “Was he as bad as your dad?”

Beverly was silent for a long time, long enough Eddie accepted that he’d never get a response, but then she said, voice barely a whisper, “Worse.”

Eddie didn’t know what to say to that, so he just put his arms around Beverly, and she leaned into him gratefully, her face buried into his shoulder, either to shield herself from the cold air or hide any tears that may have been flowing. Eddie didn’t ask.

She pulled away after a while, just far enough to look at him. “Tell me something, Eds. Ben definitely doesn’t remind you of my dad, right?”

“Do you even need to ask?”

“I don’t trust my judgement.”

“He is definitely nothing like your dad,” said Eddie. “Though now you mention it, he does kind of remind me of your aunt…”

“Don’t even fucking joke about that!” Beverly cried, slapping his arm and holding back a laugh. It was nice to see her smile after the conversation they’d just had.

“Why not? She’s a lovely lady!”

“Shut up!”

They both stood there giggling like school children, then Beverly gave Eddie another hug - one that was less like holding her up when she was breaking and more a thank you - before pulling away fully.

“Will you stay with me tonight?” she asked. “I don’t like sleeping alone.”

“Ok, but I should clarify that I’m gay.”

Bev laughed and smacked his arm again. “You know very well my heart belongs to Richie Tozier.”

“Does it now?” Eddie snorted. “Ben’s gonna be disappointed.”

“Oh did I say my heart? I meant  _ your _ heart.”

“I have no idea what you’re fucking talking about,” said Eddie, face bright red as Bev started cackling.

“Oh shit!” she said suddenly. “You can’t stay with me. I can’t sabotage Stan’s plan to get you and Rich to bone!”

“Stan will have to fucking get over that,” said Eddie, face glowing even redder if that were possible. “I’m staying with you tonight, let’s go.”

“Aw, Rich will be so lonely,” said Bev, leading the way off the balcony.

“I’m sure he’s too busy jerking off to miss me,” said Eddie.

“Or doing both at once,” said Bev and Eddie practically squawked in indignation.

Still, Eddie followed Bev back to her room, shooting a quick text to Richie as he did so. Bev hadn’t made a big deal out of it, but he knew how much she hated sleeping alone. He was kind of the same, really; he’d wake up in the night expecting his mother to be there looming over him, checking his pulse and breathing like he might have died in the short amount of time she hadn’t been watching him like a hawk. Alone left the imagination free to run riot, to concoct new nightmarish scenarios or relive old ones. He doubted any of the Losers liked sleeping alone after Pennywise, and he felt kind of bad for leaving Richie, but he’d handle it. Bev was different. She had more than just that clown weighing down on her; she’d had a traumatising childhood even before that, and that was something that Eddie understood. He was the only other member of the Losers who did, and it was an unspoken solidarity they had between them. It was what made them such close friends.

They clambered into the bed, joking and laughing like they were kids again and this was just another sleepover. Bev stuck her cold feet under Eddie’s shirt and pressed them to his bare back, and he squawked and rolled away from her, stealing the covers until she beat him up with one of the pillows. It didn’t take long for Bev to fall asleep, even with the wedding looming, and Eddie figured their conversation had probably drained her bigtime.

It was kind of bittersweet, lying next to Bev like they were back in Bill’s room sleeping over on his bedroom floor. The thing was, as much as Eddie was happy for them, tomorrow Bev and Ben would be married, and she’d be sharing a bed with him instead. 

But Eddie? Eddie would go back to sleeping alone.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok so I have no idea if I wrote Audra and Patty in character coz they have like no screen time so I took so liberties. Anyway, here's some fluff.

Richie awoke to a pillow slapping his head and a pleasant greeting of “Wake up, fuck-face!”

“Good morning to you too, sunshine,” Richie groaned, rolling over in bed and burying his face deeper into his warm pillow so as to ignore the tiny hypochondriac man currently trying to force him out of bed. A brief glance at the window told him it had snowed overnight, and he’d much rather stay in his cosy bed than venture out there.

“Come on, asshole, today’s the big day!” Eddie said, pulling the sheets off of Richie magician-style before immediately releasing a sound not-unlike one of those rubber chicken dogs toys and clapping his hands over his eyes. “Where the fuck are your clothes?!”

“Why the fuck would I wear clothes when I was supposed to be sleeping alone?!” Richie said, finally dragging himself out of bed to slip on a dressing gown and smirking slightly at Eddie’s red face. 

“Are you decent yet?”

“Morally?” said Richie. “Hard to say.”

“Do you have clothes on, dipshit?”

Richie rolled his eyes. “Yes, Eduardo, you can look again without gagging.”

“Why would I gag?” said Eddie, finally lowering his hands, and Richie swallowed the urge to make a blowjob joke.

“So what brings you here this morning, my dear spaghetti?”

Eddie scowled at the nickname. “Maybe because this is my fucking assigned room, jerk-off.” When Richie raised an eyebrow at him, he rolled his eyes. “Bev kicked me out and your presence is requested to help the bride prepare for her special day,” he explained, fluttering his fingers about sarcastically as though disgusted by the romantic notion of it all.

“Well why didn’t you just say, spaghetti-bear?” said Richie. “You mind giving me some privacy while I shower and get dressed first? Unless you wanna get all steamy with me?” he added with a wink, grinning when Eddie’s face flushed red once more even while he wore that adorable scowl.

“Whatever, asshole, I’m going to help Ben get ready.” He retrieved one of his many suitcases - the one containing his suit - and made his exit, leaving Richie to get ready for the day.

Nobody could say Richie didn’t make an effort to look nice; he’d had a haircut a few days ago, and now he actually shaved and put on deodorant after his shower before putting on his fanciest outfit: jeans and a tuxedo t-shirt.

“Don’t all fawn over me at once, ladies,” he declared as he flung open the door to Bev’s room to find Stan, Patty and Audra all fussing over Beverly’s hair and makeup.

“Nope,” said Stan, taking one look at him. “You are not wearing that, no fucking way.”

“Bev said I could wear whatever I wanted!” Richie protested as Beverly tried valiantly to hide her grimace.

Stan gave him a deadpan look. He walked over to a suitcase and pulled a suit bag from it, shoving into Richie’s arms. “Go change.”

“Why do you have this?” said Richie, frowning down at the bag. It was black and opaque so he couldn’t see what the garment it held looked like.

“Because I knew you’d try to pull some shit,” said Stanley. “Go. Change.”

“No offence, Staniel,” said Richie, eying Stan’s bird-patterned tie, “but I don’t trust your fashion taste.”

“I picked it especially for you,” said Stan, and shook his head when Richie looked even more apprehensive. “You’ll like it, trust me.”

Richie wasn’t convinced but went into the en suite to change anyway. As soon as he unzipped the bag, he grinned. He’d never doubt Stan again.

“Now you’ll really have to try not to fawn over me, ladies!” said Richie, grinning widely as he stepped back out of the bathroom all decked out in a suit, except this one wasn’t boring and black like all the ones he had to wear to red carpet events that he hated so much; this one was colourful and patterned with bright flowers all over, not unlike his favourite Hawaiian shirts. The shirt underneath was black, but Richie didn’t care as it made sure the whole look wasn’t too over-the-top. He looked pretty hot if he did say so himself. “You really outdid yourself, Stan-the-man!” he said, pulling Stan into a tight hug.

“You’re welcome, Trashmouth,” Stan laughed. “Patty helped me pick it out,” he added, and Richie gave Patty a big hug too, momentarily distracting her from doing up Bev’s hair.

“You actually look really handsome,” said Bev, looking him up and down.

“You sound surprised,” said Richie, feigning offence.

“More handsome than usual,” Bev rectified. “That nightmare outfit actually suits you.”

“It does scream Richie, doesn’t it?” said Stan.

“Alright, I think we’re done here, hon,” said Audra as she made a final sweep of blusher across Bev’s cheekbone. “You want any makeup doing, Richie?”

Richie blinked at her, momentarily caught off guard. He joked about that sort of thing a lot - a way to detract attention from the fact that he really was a huge ‘fairy’ like his school bullies always said - but Audra seemed completely serious. Richie hadn’t really considered actually indulging in feminine things now that he was out and proud without making it a joke.

“Uh,” he said, “what kind of makeup?”

Audra tapped her chin thoughtfully. “I reckon you’d look really hot with some eyeliner and painted nails.”

“Careful you don’t make Eddie have a fit,” Stan murmured, and Bev snorted as Richie shot them both a glare.

Audra didn’t seem to hear as she was too busy retrieving a bag containing about a hundred little bottles of nail varnish. “Wanna pick a colour?” she said, passing Richie the bag.

Richie perched on the edge of the bed and shuffled through all the bottles, marvelling at just how many colours there were. He contemplated picking a pink that matched some of the flowers on his suit, but decided to play it safe and pulled out a plain black instead.

Audra took the bottle off him and sat beside him on the bed, pulling his hand into her lap. She filed down the jagged edges first - courtesy of a nail-biting habit Richie had never managed to get rid of despite his mother’s wishes - then opened the bottle carefully. Richie stayed perfectly still, watching the little brush sweep over his nails one by one.

“Wow, you actually got Richie to shut up and stay still,” said Stan. “We should’ve made you an honorary Loser sooner.”

Richie flipped him off with his free hand but was careful not to move the one Audra was working on.

“It’s part of my charm,” Audra said simply, not looking up from what she was doing.

“All done, Bev!” said Patty from across the room, and Richie looked up to see the finished result of Bev’s makeover. 

Her makeup was done to perfection thanks to Audra and her movie-star expertise; her eyeshadow blended expertly across her lids and the colour bringing out the green in her eyes, her eyeliner perfectly neat and even on each side, her cheekbones highlighted expertly and her lips painted a pretty pink. And her hair was flawless, pulled back in a loose bun bordered by a braid that had been woven around little silver flowers, wavy strands of amber locks falling free to frame her face.

“You look gorgeous, Bev,” said Richie.

“Thanks, sweetie,” said Bev, smiling at her reflection in the mirror. “And thank you, girls, you did amazing.”

“You’re welcome, honey,” said Patty, smiling softly. “You make such a beautiful bride.”

“Yeah, I’m only, like, ninety per cent jealous right now,” said Audra and Bev laughed. “Alright, handsome, don’t touch anything while that dries,” she said to Richie as she finished painting the last nail. “Now, let me see what I can do about eyeliner.”

“Ooh, I think your hair might be long enough to braid,” said Patty, coming over. “Can I?”

“Suddenly I’m eight again and acting like a doll for my sister and her stupid friends,” said Richie, but he didn’t protest as Patty grabbed a brush and some hair ties.

“You love it,” said Bev and Richie just stuck his tongue out at her.

Stan had to run off to take a phone call before Richie’s makeover was complete. He stood in front of the mirror admiring Patty and Audra’s handy work. Thankfully, Patty hadn’t gone too overboard with the braiding, and Richie didn’t match a certain photo his mom had on her fridge depicting him with about twenty bunches and bows in his hair and glittery eyeshadow all over his face. This look was far more subtle.

“You look like a Viking-emo-hippy,” said Bev. “It shouldn’t work but it does.”

“I look hot as fuck,” said Richie humbly.

“Twenty-bucks says Eddie pops a boner,” Bev whispered not-so-subtly to Audra.

“You’re on.”

“Will you please stop with the fucking bets,” said Richie. “Or at least let me in on them, I bet I could make big money.”

“You wish, sunshine,” said Bev.

Stan reentered the room a moment later, a frown creasing his face. It must have been serious because he didn’t even look twice at Richie’s makeover.

“Uh, Beverly, don’t freak out, but we have a problem.”

“Oh no,” said Bev, paling instantly. “What is it?”

“There’s been a lot of snow overnight and the minister can’t make it,” said Stan.

Beverly stared at him. “What?” she cried, her voice cracking with panic as she grasped Richie’s arm for support and Patty rubbed her back comfortingly. “We can’t have a wedding without a minister!”

“Bev, it’s going to be fine,” said Stan, holding out his hands giving her a calming look. “I can perform the wedding, my father made sure I was ordained.”

“But we’re not Jewish,” said Bev, still far from calm. “Can you still do it? Is that going to be a problem?”

“I’m not a Rabbi, it’ll be fine,” said Stan and Beverly gave a great sigh of relief before rushing into his arms and giving him a tight hug.

“Oh, thank you, thank you, thank you,” she said emphatically before pulling away so as not to smudge her makeup. “Oh no, but who will walk down the aisle with Mike?”

“Don’t worry, babe,” said Richie. “Your man has two hands.”

“God, this wedding is just getting further and further away from traditional,” sighed Bev.

“Did you expect anything less?” said Stan.

“Good point.”

“You better get going, babe,” said Audra after checking her watch. “You don’t wanna be late.”

“We’ll see you at the second ceremony,” said Patty. She hugged Bev then gave Stan a quick peck on the lips. “Good luck.”

“You’ll be fine,” said Audra, giving Bev’s hand a reassuring squeeze. “That is one good-looking hunk you’ve snagged yourself.”

“And so respectful,” sighed Patty dreamily.

“I’m standing right here,” said Stan.

Patty soft smile turned into a grin, her eyes glinting mischievously. “No one can beat my man’s sweet little behind,” she replied, reaching her arms around her husband. He yelped suddenly, his face turning red, and Richie realised she’d pinched his ass. He couldn’t blame her.

He gasped dramatically. “You married a girl with a wild side, Stanley!”

Stan shot him a glare but Patty winked at him.

“Oh, he’s got wild side too.”

“Patty!” Stan squawked, and Patty giggled, reaching up to kiss his nose.

”See you later,” she said, then she linked her arm with Audra’s and the two made their way out of the room.

Stanley was still blushing and Richie nudged him playfully. “Man, I really wish I’d been at your wedding.”

Stan rolled his eyes at him but then looked at the ground, his smile falling slightly. “Me too,” he said softly.

Beverly moved forward and took his hand, squeezing it gently. “We’re all together for this wedding at least.”

“Yeah,” said Stan, looking up at her and smiling. “You ready?”

Bev returned his smile a little shakily, wringing her hands together. “As I’ll ever be,” she replied.

They all bundled into thick winter coats, obscuring most of their outfits for the time being.

“We’re really doing this outside?” said Richie, eying the garden through the frost-flecked window which had become a winter wonderland overnight.

“For the aesthetic,” said Bev, giving him puppy-dog eyes. “And for me.”

“Ugh, fine,” said Richie.

“Shouldn’t take long,” said Stan. “Then we’ve got the second ceremony inside where its warm."

“Can’t wait,” said Richie. “This better be fucking spectacular in the meantime.”

“I hope so,” said Bev. She stepped between them and took their hands. Richie squeezed her hand and she squeezed back, smiling up at him, nervous but… Excited. Really excited.

“You’re about to marry Ben,” Richie whispered, and Beverly nodded, unable to speak, but her eyes were bright and glistening.

The words still didn’t feel quite real. Everything that had happened, everything they’d been through, and here they were. Alive. Two of his best friends in the world getting married. Only a year ago, weddings to him were just boring events he attended for the benefit of the press. Just turn up, smile, eat the free cake and leave. But he hadn’t had real friends back then, or at least, he hadn’t remembered them. He’d spent twenty-seven years with a pit in his chest he couldn’t seem to fill and no idea how it had gotten there. But now, standing here holding Beverly’s hand with Stan, preparing to go meet the others, he felt whole again. Finally. He may not have remembered the Losers for those twenty-seven years, but he’d missed them so much more than they could ever know. They were more than just friends to him; they were soulmates, all of them. Their absence had left a huge gap in his life, but now they were back, and he was never letting them go.

Beverly sucked in a deep breath and let it out slowly. She squeezed the hands of both the men either side of her tightly, drew her shoulder’s back, and they all turned as one to face the door. 

“Ok,” she said. “I’m ready.” 

Richie smiled down at her. “Alright,” he said. “Let’s go get you married.”


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's time people!!! I hope I don't disappoint coz like I've literally been making this up as I go ahhhhhhhhhhh

The fresh snow glittered on the ground in the morning light, millions of tiny diamonds twinkling up at the Losers as they walked across the frozen garden. The trees towered over them as they passed through the bordering woodland, their branches weighed down with piles of white, frost curling across the trunks in patterns so intricate and complex that only nature could have created them. They came to a clearing where an arch stood up ahead, woven from willow branches and interlaced with white flowers. It stood before four white chairs, placed neatly in two lines either side of a long silver carpet, and bordering the whole arrangement stood rows of flaming torches glowing a bright vermillion, stark against the white scenery as they burned their winter fire. Embers rose from the flickering flames, rising up in the January sky like thousands of fireflies performing a mesmerizing dance.

Eddie stood gaping at the whole thing until Ben nudged him.

“Think we overdid it?” he asked a little sheepishly.

“No,” said Eddie. “It’s perfect.”

Ben smiled, the light from the fires reflecting in his eyes. “Thanks, man.”

Ben went to stand by the arch while Eddie, Bill and Mike went a little distance away behind the cover of some trees to wait for the others. Mike had Ember on a leash; Bev’s aunt had brought her that morning and she’d be bearing the rings in a little bag attached to her collar. It was kind of adorable.

The soft sound of snow crunching beneath feet alerted them to the arrival of the other Losers. The trio emerged from the trees, huddled closely together in thick coats for warmth. Eddie was momentarily caught off guard by Richie; he had a few little braids woven into his hair and… Was he wearing eyeliner? Eddie hated how good it looked on him.

“Can we getting a fucking move on before I freeze to death?” said Richie as soon as he saw them, snapping Eddie out of his little trance.

“The mm-m-minister isn’t here yet,” said Bill.

“Change of plan,” said Stan. “I’m performing the wedding. See you guys in a bit.” And with that, he rushed off to join Ben by the arch.

“Well shit,” said Mike. “Who am I walking with?”

“Why does everyone forget that I have two hands?” said Richie. “Unless Eddie doesn’t want to share?” he added with a wink.

“Shut the fuck up, asshole,” said Eddie, ignoring the part of him that really was protesting about sharing. “And take off your coat so we can start.”

“Ooh la la, you want me to strip?”

“_ Just _ the coat, dickwad.”

Richie finally pulled off his coat to reveal the outfit beneath, and Eddie stared at him.

“I know, I know, I’m hot as fuck,” said Richie.

“Yeah,” Eddie breathed, then coughed loudly when everyone’s attention snapped to him. “Um… I mean- You look okay I guess,” he stuttered, feeling his face burn. Thank god Stan wasn’t there to give him one of those _ looks _, though Bev was doing a good job of doing it for him. “Come on, are we ready to go or not?”

“Just a second,” said Bev, and she slipped off her coat.

Beneath she was a ballgown of deep, midnight blue, the colour fanning down from the waist in intricately crafted vines before fading into a pearlescent white that blended with the snow at her feet, and flecks of the same white fanned across the sweetheart bodice like snowflakes on a winters night.

“How do I look?” she said.

“Beautiful.”

“Stunning.”

“Breathtaking.”

“Oh, my boys,” said Bev, smiling at each of them with so much love in her eyes. “I don’t deserve any of you.”

“I thh-think it’s the other way round,” said Bill. He stepped up beside her and held out his arm. “Ready?”

“As I’ll ever be,” said Bev, threading her arm through his.

Walking the bride down the aisle was a tradition usually left to the father, but Alvin Marsh deserved no such honour, even if he was still alive. Instead, that right went to Bill Denbrough, the unspoken leader of the Losers Club, who united them all those years ago, without whom the group never would have been such close friends. Without him, who was to say whether Bev and Ben would have grown so close? Without him, who was to say there would even be a wedding now?

“Come on, guys, let me steal your body heat,” said Richie, wedging himself between Eddie and Mike and threading their arms together. “Let’s roll, people!”

Richie, Eddie and Mike led the way back through the trees to the setup, situating themselves so they’d obscure Bev from Ben’s view until the last minute. At the arch, Stanley slipped a flute from his pocket and pressed it to his lips, and the sweet melody of the wedding march rang out across the clearing. Mike crouched down and released Ember from her leash and she pounced down the aisle, the bag of rings jangling at her collar, and she sat obediently at Ben’s feet, her tail wagging wildly and wafting snow all over his shoes. He leant down briefly to pet her head, smiling affectionately.

Then it was the turn of the best men and man of honour. Eddie tried not to focus on the fact that he was walking down a wedding aisle with Richie fucking Tozier. And Mike, sure, but it was Richie’s arm he held, Richie who’s side was pressed up against him, who’s leg kept brushing his as they walked. Eddie chanced a glance up and found Richie already looking down at him. He grinned, and Eddie returned his smile, and then they were at the end of the aisle and Eddie had to reluctantly release his arm so they could take their seats.

And then, at last, it was time for the bride to walk down the aisle. Beverly looked radiant, of course, positively glowing with excitement, and Bill looked so proud beside her. But instead of watching them, Eddie turned to watch Ben lay eyes on his bride for the first time. And, god, the love was shining from him, overflowing and flooding out across the whole clearing, bathing them all in its warmth. Beverly Marsh, his first love, the first person in that new town who’d shown him kindness, the first person who made him feel like he was deserving of friendship, the one person he’d never truly forgotten in those long twenty-seven years. And here she was, walking down the aisle towards him, ready to announce that they’d spend the rest of their lives together. 

Bill guided Bev up to the arch before taking a seat behind Richie as Stan slipped the flute back into his pocket, and Ben and Bev stood before each other at last, gazing at one another like if either of them looked away it might turn out to have all been a dream.

“Sorry I’m not all dressed in white,” Bev whispered.

“You’re beautiful,” said Ben breathlessly, voice cracking over the words. He laughed it off, swallowing and blinking back tears. “Crap, I promised myself I wouldn’t cry until the end.”

Beverly laughed, tears in her eyes too, and reached over to hold his hand, her thumb brushing over his fingers. “Take it away, Stanley,” she said. “Before we all freeze to death.”

“Dearly beloved,” Stan began, “we are gathered here today to witness the union of Beverly Marsh and Benjamin Hanscom. I’m hoping you prepared your own vows because I do not have all the words memorised.”

Mike stood briefly to pass Ben a slip of paper and he unfolded it with shaking hands.

During the second ceremony, the one where they’d be surrounded by family and colleagues, they’d be reciting the traditional vows. But this was a moment for just their friends to hear, where they could speak their hearts openly and without fear, where they had nothing to hide. This was a moment for just the Losers.

“Beverly Marsh,” he began, voice shaking just as much as his hands, “there are no words to describe how much I love you, but I am so, so glad I’m going to have the rest of my life with you to show you. We’ve lost so much time, and I know we can’t get those twenty-seven years back, but I promise you I’m going to make it all up to you and show you every day just how much you mean to me. You were my first crush, my first friend, and I still can’t believe I’m standing here today. We’ve been through so much, but I wouldn’t change any of it if it meant I wouldn’t be by your side. I love you, Beverly. I always have, and I always will.”

Beverly smiled like she couldn’t contain it, her whole face glowing with love. She subtly brushed tears away with her thumb as Ben passed his vows back to Mike, then she beckoned Richie over to retrieve her own vows from him.

She waited patiently while Ben gathered himself together, blinking away tears and swallowing thickly against the lump in his throat. He smiled at her when he was ready, though it was a little wobbly, and she smoothed out her piece of paper.

“Benjamin Hanscom,” she said, “you have single-handedly restored my faith in men. I won’t go into the details because everyone here already knows and I’d rather not bring all that up when this is supposed to be the happiest day of my life, but you showed me that even though the world can be an awful place, kindness still exists. I never thought I could ever deserve someone as wonderful as you, but you’ve made me believe in myself again, you made me see myself as someone who deserves happiness and no one has ever done that for me before. You make me happier than I ever thought possible, and I only wish I’d seen all the good in you sooner. I wish we hadn’t lost so many years, but I’m so glad we have so many more to make up for it. I love you so much, Ben.” 

She paused, smiling up at him, her eyes bright pools of green speckled with the red reflections of the firelight.

“I guess,” she said, “there’s just one last thing to say.” She folded the paper, passed it to Stan, and stepped closer to Ben, taking both his hands in hers. She tilted her head back to look up at him, green eyes meeting brown. He smiled at her with trembling lips and she squeezed his hands.

“Your eyes,” she began, “are summer light,

“July promises,

“My heart belongs to you.”

Ben laughed once, half surprise and half a sob, tears flowing freely down his face now.

“You one-upped me,” he said, voice hoarse even as he grinned. “My vows seem shit now.”

“My poetry skills are shit,” Bev laughed. “You did way better than me.”

“No way, that was amazing. I want it inscribed on my gravestone.”

“You’re such a dork.”

“We’re not done yet guys,” Stan interrupted, rolling his eyes. “We need the rings.”

“Come here, girl,” said Ben, crouching down to retrieve the rings from Ember’s pouch. She licked the tears of his face as he did so and he laughed, wiping the slobber from his face with the back of his hand. He stood and passed Bev one of the rings, and they took it in turns to slip them onto eachother’s fingers.

“Alright,” said Stan. “Ben, do you take Bev to be your lawfully wedded wife in sickness and in health, et cetera?”

“I do,” said Ben, eyes already full of tears again.

“And Bev, do you take Ben as your husband?”

“I do.”

“Then, by the powers vested in me,” said Stan, “I now pronounced you husband and wife. You may now kiss the bride.”

Ben pulled Bev in, though they were both grinning so much they could barely kiss properly, and the Losers all stood and cheered loud enough to be heard from the hotel. They only gave the couple a second before rushing to them. Richie got there first, tackling them in a hug, and the others joined in until Ben and Bev were squeezed together in the middle of the Losers, all of them laughing and crying. Eddie caught Richie’s eyes and grinned at him, neither mentioning how red the other’s eyes were. 

Bev and Ben were right; the Losers had lost twenty-seven years of each other, had spent twenty-seven years with a gap in their lives, but each one of them had made it out the other side, whole and alive, and they had to rest of their lives to make up for that lost time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't write poetry for shit lmao


	11. Chapter 11

By the time the Losers got back to the hotel, they were all shivering and damp from the snow, their noses red and cheeks flushed and shoes squelching on the carpet, but they were all still too elated to care and there was plenty of time before the second ceremony to dry off and warm up in front of the grand fire in the lobby.

“I can’t believe you two are married,” said Richie, grinning over at his friends who were snuggled up together in one armchair by the fire.

“Who do you think is gonna be the next out of us to get married?” said Ben.

“Ss-stan and I are already married,” said Bill.

“You are?!” cried Richie. “Why wasn’t I invited to the wedding? How could you?”

“Thirteen-year-old Stan would be ecstatic,” Bev giggled as Stan glared at Richie. He turned the glare to her instead.

“Ww-what?” said Bill.

“I had a little crush on you back then, it’s no big deal,” Stan sighed. “Everyone did.”

“E-everyone?” Bill squawked.

“Yeah.”

“Yep.”

“Definitely.”

“I’m mostly straight but yeah.”

“Oh, come on,” said Bill. “N-not Rr-Richie at least. H-he was too busy crushing on Eddie.”

“What?” Eddie blurted. 

Richie was about ready to deny everything, divert his affections to Eddie’s mom as he always did, but he was happy and warm, still on a bit of a high from the day’s events and surrounded by people who loved him, so for once, he didn’t bother.

“Okay, but there was a brief few weeks before Eds came along,” he shrugged.

“You’re not denying it?” Eddie said, his voice cracking adorably and his eyes wide as he turned to Richie. “You had a crush on me?”

“You were just so darn cute, Eds!” Richie said, leaning across to pinch Eddie’s cheek. He decided not to mention that that ‘crush’ was still ongoing. Eddie batted his hand away as usual but seemed too in shock to protest the nickname.

“So who will be the next to get married?” said Ben in a thinly veiled attempt to divert the attention off an embarrassed Eddie. “Mike?”

“Oh, no way, I’m not really the marrying type,” said Mike. “Not really the relationship type, either, to be honest.”

“That just leaves Richie and Eds,” said Bev.

“And they’ll marry each other, so that’s two at once,” said Stan.

“Will you guys give it a rest?” said Richie. Tired of his friends’ antics, he turned to Eddie. “They’re betting on whether or not we’ll get together.”

“What?” cried Eddie, who still seemed like he had yet to process Richie having a crush on him let alone this.

“Oh for fuck’s sake, who told him?” said Bill.

“Guilty,” said Bev.

“And it’s n-not a question of  _ if _ ,” said Bill, smirking at Richie. “It’s a question of  _ when _ .”

“Stan and Bev reckoned you’d get together on or before the day of the wedding,” said Mike. He checked his watch. “So we have about nine hours before Bill and I win.”

“I’m sorry I had a little faith that one of them would grow balls,” said Stanley, rolling his eyes.

“I can’t believe you’re fucking betting on us,” said Eddie, face red and eyebrows scrunched up with fury. It was one of Richie’s favourite expressions of Eddie’s. 

“Yeah, and I would’ve won if Bev hadn’t kidnapped you and ruined my plan last night,” said Stan, turning to scowl at Bev. “You’re supposed to be on my side!”

“He’s my emotional support gay!” Bev defended.

“You guys aren’t ss-supposed to meddle!” said Bill. 

“None of you should be fucking meddling,” said Eddie. “My love life is none of your fucking business.”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake, Eddie, it’s been thirty years,” said Stan. “I, for one, have had enough of this. You two have been pining for each other since you were twelve! You like each other, okay? Now can you please get a move on and bone already?”

Richie opened his mouth to retort but no words came. He looked over at Eddie who was staring right back at him, his flustered expression and red face probably mirroring Richie’s. Sure, Stan was right, Richie had liked Eddie since they were twelve. But Eddie liking him back? There was no way. Eddie was always mad at him, always fussing at him about his hygiene and how he was bound to get a bunch of infections, always complaining about his jokes. And sure, Richie loved watching Eddie get all heated and flustered, but that was out of annoyance, not anything else. Surely… 

No. Richie mentally shook his head. Stan saying Eddie liked him didn’t mean anything. The others were just on a romantic high from the wedding, just seeing things that weren’t there. Until Eddie straight up told him himself, Richie was not going to believe anything the others said. Because, honestly, he didn’t think he could handle it if they were wrong. He’d rather spend another thirty years pining then be rejected, then ruin what they had. He liked being Eddie’s friend, he liked poking fun at him and watching him get all red-faced, he liked their back and forth banter, and he liked those soft moments when it was just the two of them, when they could just exist as themselves, comfortable in each other. He didn’t want to risk losing that.

“Give them a break,” said Ben, interrupting Richie’s thoughts. “Twenty-seven of those years weren’t their fault, and they’ve been through a whole bunch of shit. We know that better than anyone. Let them take their time, okay?” He looked over at Richie and Eddie and smiled, forever the supportive friend. “We’re here for you no matter what. Even if you  _ never _ get together. Right guys?”

He looked over at the other’s and they let out a series of reluctant but affirming groans.

“That being said,” Ben continued, turning back to Richie and Eddie. “Can you two at least promise you’ll have a talk about it?”

Richie and Eddie glanced at each other. 

“I guess,” mumbled Richie after a moment.

“Yeah, whatever,” grunted Eddie.

“Good,” said Ben, smiling. 

“Buddy,” said Mike, “please tell me you and Bev plan to have children, coz you are already the world’s greatest dad.”

Ben’s face flushed instantly but Bev grinned and squeezed his hand.

“All in good time, Michael,” she said which only served to make Ben even more flustered.

By the time the second ceremony was due to start, the real minister had arrived and Stan was back to being a man of honour and walking down the aisle with Mike, which meant Richie was walking with Eddie alone. He tried not to focus on it too much, which was exceedingly difficult considering the conversation the Losers had just had. Did Eddie really like him? Was this just as flustering for Eddie as it was for Richie? Had they really wasted thirty years thinking the other didn’t reciprocate their feelings? It seemed impossible, like something out of Richie’s teenage fantasies, but he couldn’t stop thinking about it.

Richie tried his best not to fidget during that second ceremony, but standing by the aisle while Bev and Ben repeated generic vows in front of a room full of people Richie didn’t care about was almost too much. He occupied himself by scanning the room. He spotted Audra and Patty seated next to each other, and Bev’s aunt sat in the front row beside Ben’s parents with his grandmother beside them. Then there were Ben’s colleagues, the odd work friend of Bev’s who hadn’t abandoned her after her divorce from Tom, and rows of random cousins and distant relatives that probably hadn’t all been together for at least twenty years. Richie tried to amuse himself by making up ludicrous stories for each of them, but eventually, his attention strayed to the other side of the alter, back to Eddie.

He was wearing a neat black suit over a pink shirt that reminded Richie of one of Eddie’s outfits when they were kids. They’d all been fashion icons back then. His hair was neatly combed back as usual and his face was cleanly shaven. And for once, he didn’t look angry or worried or like the world was going to come crashing down on him at any moment. He looked happy as he watched Ben and Bev, his dark eyes soft and shining and a slight smile on his face, his dimples on full display. He was beautiful, and  _ fuck _ , Richie really needed to get a grip on himself. There was no way -  _ no way _ \- someone as perfect as that could have feelings for someone as much of a mess as Richie.

He zoned back in in time to see Bev and Ben kiss for the second time that day, actually managing properly this time. They walked back down the aisle together, holding hands and waving as everyone stood and cheered them on, then Bev held her bouquet of flowers aloft.

“Ready?” she called.

There was a shriek as all the single ladies in the room fought their way to the aisle for a good spot. Richie just watched them in amusement, but when Bev finally threw the bouquet, it soared over everyone’s heads - she’d always been pretty good at throwing - and right into Richie’s hands before he could even process what was happening.

A disappointed sigh swept over the room from all the ladies who’d missed out, but Richie barely heard them, still staring at the flowers in momentary shock.

“Nice catch, dumbass,” said Eddie, snapping Richie out of his trance.

“Told you you’d be next to get married, Rich,” Stan snorted.

“Yeah right,” Richie scoffed, ignoring his burning face. “You wish.” He tossed the bouquet back into the crowd and there was a scuffle as the women realised what was happening and tried to grab it first. It eventually ended up in the hands of Ben’s grandmother who was quite feisty for a woman in her nineties. 

The reception was the part Richie was really looking forward to; free food and cake and an open bar, and a dance floor for him and his friends to embarrass themselves on.

Music rang through the air as Ben and Bev took to the dancefloor for their first dance as a married couple.

_ “Close your eyes, _

_ “Realise, _

_ “It’s you and I…” _

“Is this fucking New Kids on the Block?” cried Richie as Ben pulled Bev into his arms. “Why am I not fucking surprised?”

“Beep beep, Richie. Shut the fuck up and let them enjoy themselves,” Eddie said, elbowing Richie lightly in the side.

_ “If loving you is right I can’t go wrong, _

_ “Girl we’ve known each other for so long, _

_ “Chemistry between us has grown strong, _

_ “You are the one and only meaning to this song.” _

“It’s sweet,” said Mike, watching the couple dance. Neither were very good at it, stepping on each others feet and giggling, their smiles lighting up the room as they swayed around like they were thirteen years old again and nothing else in the world mattered. “It fits, you know?”

“So fucking cheesy,” said Richie, smiling as he watched two of his best friends dance together. “But yeah, you’re right.”

_ “You make me feel there's no such thing as too far, _

_ “Forever's just enough time to show you, girl, _

_ “That I'm not acting like I know, _

_ “I'll never let you go.” _

Bev and Ben twirled around the dance floor as the crowd of guests cheered them on. The music really wasn’t the kind of romantic melody couples tended to dance to at weddings - more like something that would play at a middle-school dance - but neither of them seemed to care. They danced like there was no one else in the room, gazing at each other fondly, laughing when Ben tripped over his own feet or Bev stepped on his toes, joking that they probably should have gotten dancing lessons. They were so in love and - call him a sappy romantic but- Richie could have watched them dance for hours.

Eventually, though, the song came to an end and a new one started, and Bev and Ben beckoned the other Losers onto the dance floor.

“Come on, we need the best men and men of honour to dance together,” said Bev. “You promised.”

Mike didn’t hesitate to grab Stan and start reenacting Dirty Dancing with him, and Bev pulled Bill onto the dance floor for what she called a ‘father-daughter dance’, despite his protests to the name. 

Richie hesitated, eying Eddie reproachfully. The prospect of dancing with him after Eddie finally knew about his childhood crush, plus what all the Losers had said about them, was almost too much to handle. He thought about what it would be like to dance with Eddie, pressed up close to him, his hands on Eddie’s waist as Eddie’s arms were draped around his neck, barely a breath between them. Just an inch away from-

Nope. Richie couldn’t handle that. He couldn’t trust himself not to do something stupid and embarrassing. So Richie did what Richie did best; made a huge joke out of it.

“Come on, Eduardo!” he said, dragging Eddie onto the dance floor before immediately releasing his hand and lurching into movement. “I believe this is what the kids these days are ‘the Floss’.”

“You’re doing it wrong!” cried Bev, releasing Bill to stand by Richie. “It’s like this. Watch.”

She demonstrated some weird movements and Richie did his worst interpretation of them before dabbing.

“You are such a fucking moron,” said Eddie, but when Richie looked up at him, he was smiling. God, he’d never grow tired of that smile.

“You ever heard of twerking, Eds?” he said.

“No one wants to see that!” Stan cried as Richie went into a squat.

“You do not have alcohol in your system to blame this on,” said Bev. “And that being said, someone get the cameraman!”

Okay, so Richie was stupid and embarrassing anyway, but he figured this was better than the alternative.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why yes I did name this entire fic after that new kids on the block song and what about it
> 
> One more chapter before certain Things happen ಠ◡ಠ


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think this is the longest chapter so far oof but I hope y'all enjoy!

The Losers sat either side of Ben and Bev at the grand table at the head of the dining hall overlooking all the other guests, and Audra and Patty sat with them beside their respective husbands, honorary Losers in their own right.

Eddie was seated beside Richie, much to the amusement of the others who he still hadn’t forgiven for their little betting pool. As far as he was concerned, Ben, Audra and Patty were now his only friends. That was until Patty had quite seriously asked him how long he and Richie had been together and Audra had spat her drink all over his food when he’d said they weren’t dating. Ben was his only friend now.

Richie, for his part, didn’t seem at all embarrassed by the fact that the others had a betting pool or that Bill had revealed his childhood crush on Eddie. At least, he didn’t show it. He was too busy spouting off his usual terrible jokes to whoever would listen to him. He’d had a few drinks at this point, though seemed to have actually listened to Eddie’s rants about his liver for once as he wasn’t as drunk as he usually tended to get. Or maybe he just wanted to actually remember this day.

Eddie couldn’t deny that he was a little disappointed that Richie hadn’t properly danced with him, but he was a little relieved too. Being that close to Richie after just finding out that he’d had a crush on him as a kid, plus the fact that the others seemed to think that crush was still ongoing, that Eddie’s feelings were actually reciprocated… It was more than he felt he could handle, honestly. He wondered if Richie would actually participate in that ‘talk’ Ben had mentioned, or if he’d chicken out as he usually did when things got serious. Part of Eddie hoped he would and they’d never mention it again, but another part of him wondered what would happen if they did, if it turned out mutual feelings really were shared…

He was pulled out of his thoughts by Bill standing and tapping a fork against his glass to get everyone’s attention, and Eddie guessed it was time for his big speech. He’d been kind of worried about it, honestly; Bill’s stutter still hadn’t gone away after returning to Derry and it tended to get worse when he was nervous, and he just knew this room full of uncaring strangers would think he was stupid or something because they wouldn’t understand. He didn’t want to have to watch the flickers of amusement followed by careful, polite blankness to pass over their faces. He knew Bill got plenty of that already.

But he should’ve known Bill wasn’t the type to let such things get to him. He smiled at his audience, standing tall and proud, the confident leader he always was.

“Hello, everyone. The b-b-bride asked me t-to say a ff-few words.”

Eddie watched the exact expressions he’d predicted flicker across the crowd and he scowled.

“Thh-thing is, I know n-no one wants to sit there ll-listening to me sss-st-stutter for an hour,” Bill continued and a wave of slightly hesitant laughter swept over the audience. Bill only smiled. “I ww-won’t make you,” he said. “See people like m-me, we have a way to cheat.” He picked up his drink and swirled it around contemplatively. “Some people d-don’t stutter when they’re d-d-drunk or alone or ss-singing.” He grinned. “But I won’t ss-subject you to that either. My w-wife will tell you I can’t ss-sing to save my life. There is one thing I can do ww-without s-st-stuttering, though, and that’s tell stories. So, h-here’s one I wrote specially for tonight. I just hope you like the ending.”

Here cleared his throat as silence fell over the room. No one cared about his stutter now; here was the famous author William Denbrough about the tell a story he’d written especially for this night. An exclusive tale that would only be heard by the people in that room.

“A long time ago,” he began in a manner befitting many fairy tales, “back when TVs were boxes and shoulder pads were the epitome of fashion and people were really excited about the thought of Star Wars prequels, there lived seven kids. A kid with an awful stutter, a quiet Jewish kid, a little hypochondriac with an overprotective mother, a four-eyed weirdo with a loud mouth, an orphaned black kid in a town of white republicans, a fat new kid who looked like fresh meat to a pack of monsters, and a girl who people whispered nasty things about, who the men in her life saw as a toy.”

The Losers looked at each other as he spoke, smiling a little at the way Bill had described them. Characters in a story, heroes in a fairy tale.

“By all outward appearances,” Bill continued, “these kids were unremarkable. They were losers, in fact, something they heard shouted at them so often, spat in their faces as they were beaten down, that it was ingrained in their minds as simply a fact. 

“The town the kids grew up in was a place ruled by a monster.”

A chill went over Eddie as he realised where this story was going. He didn’t need reminding of those events, but the way Bill told it had him listening intently anyway.

“The monster was a terrible thing,” said Bill, “a devourer of worlds that knew every one of their secrets, all their deepest darkest fears. It lurked around every corner, watching and waiting to dig Its claws in and feast on the kids, feed on their fear. It changed Itself, shifted into the things they were most afraid of. A lost child blaming his big brother for his death, a warped and twisted painting with soulless eyes, a gruesome leper consumed by its disease until it was barely human, trapped parents screaming for their child as they burned in flames… So many things, but Its favourite form was that of a clown. You may think that’s far less scary than the other forms It took, but this looked like no ordinary clown. Its limbs were disproportionately long for Its body and Its head far too large, Its painted smile as dark red as blood and stretching up Its cheeks right up to Its bug-like eyes that never looked straight. And when It smiled, Its drool dripped like a waterfall down Its chin, so hungry It was for the kids, so eager It was to devour their delicious, terrified souls.

“But for all the taunts and threats and beatings the kids dealt with, it turned out that, more then anything, they were brave, and even braver still around each other. They grew close, fought off their shared enemies together, became friends, the kind of friends who leave a mark on each other, one that never fades. And they came together to fight this monster, to send it back where It belonged, where It couldn’t make them afraid anymore. They tried, at least. One got hurt-” To his right, Eddie felt Richie twitch ever so slightly, and when he looked over, his mouth was set in a thin line- “but the others made sure the monster didn’t get him. They fought It off and It slithered back into Its hiding place, but it didn’t go away, not completely.

“The kids may have won that fight, but they were scared and hurt and one had almost died. So they fought, and they split up, and they went back to being losers.

“Until the monster took the girl.”

Eddie glanced over in time to see Ben swallow thickly and Beverly took his hand, squeezing it gently beneath the table.

“It snatched her away,” said Bill, “and took her back to Its lair. But the girl was strong, stronger than the monster had bargained for, and she fought It. She told It she wasn’t afraid and It realised It would go hungry without the sweet meal of her fear, so It trapped her there, locked her away inside her own head, sleeping like a princess in a fairy tale.

“When the others found out, they put aside their differences and came together to rescue her. They stole away down into Its lair, defeating one of Its minions along the way, and they found the girl suspended in the air and gazing blankly into space like she was lost to the world. They pulled her down, but try as they might, they couldn’t get her to wake up. Then one boy, the little fat new kid who no one thought would ever have any friends but who had found them all the same, remembered the fairy stories of his childhood and how the sleeping princess could be woken with true love’s kiss.” 

Ben now smiled shyly at this, a light blush spreading across his cheeks which Bev pressed a kiss to before resting her head on his shoulder.

“This girl had been his first friend out of all of them,” said Bill. “The first one to be kind to him when no one else was, and he loved her dearly but knew a little fat boy had no chance with a pretty girl like her. Still, he was desperate, scared, in a horrible place where the monster could be hiding anywhere ready to pounce, and he needed to save her no matter what it took. So he pressed his lips to hers, and for a moment it seemed like it had done nothing and it was just a notion better left to fairy stories after all, but then the girl blinked, and the blank look faded from her eyes, and she looked at the boy and smiled, for she realised that in that town of horrible men who saw her as meat and treated her as such, this boy truly loved her.”

Bev smiled, little pinpricks of tears beading on her eyelashes and she looked down at Ben’s hand in hers, resting in her lap as she played idly with his fingers. 

“The kids were all together once more,” Bill continued, “and when the monster came for them, they were braver than ever standing together. It took one in Its clutches - the stuttering boy - and told the others It would leave them in peace if they went away and let It devour this boy alone, but they refused. They would not abandon him, for he was their friend, and when they were all together, they weren’t so afraid of this monster anymore. The loudmouthed boy attacked It and the others followed suit, and It had to let go of the stuttering boy to defend Itself, but it was no use. The kids were strong, they were brave, they were fearless. They’d been beaten down their whole lives, had the word ‘loser’ screamed at them, but now they owned it. They were the Losers, and they always would be, but that didn’t mean they were anything less than anyone else, that didn’t mean they weren’t smart and strong and beautiful and wholly, completely incredible."

Every one of the Losers was looking at Bill now, up at their fearless leader as he effortlessly captivated the room, his words flowing from his mouth seamlessly as he spoke of his friends, his voice and expression filled with pride.

“The Losers fought the monster,” he said, “the embodiment of all their deepest fears, and they defeated It, of course they did, for the Losers could do anything when they were all together. And the monster slunk away into Its hole, into the darkest corners of the world where It would remain for many years, and where It would go hungry.

“The Losers stayed together afterwards, and they swore that if the monster ever returned, then they’d return too and defeat It for good. They’d defeated a great evil that day and forged something else in its place, something pure and wonderful. They were bonded, a bond deeper than most people could dream of. Even if they separated, even if the years stretched out and they forgot about each other, they’d never truly be parted from one another, and they would always reunite in the end. It wasn’t a friendship, not really. That word wasn’t deep enough for them, didn’t contain enough meaning. Family, maybe, but not quite. Their bond was something bone-deep, etched into their souls, stretching across the fabric of the universe no matter how far apart they were. They were the Losers, but that was the odd thing; they owned that term, accepted it as their identity, and it was a clear thing to everyone who met them. But the reality was, they never felt like losers when they were with each other.”

Bill smiled as he finished before taking his seat once more, and Audra kissed his cheek and squeezed his hand under the table. The audience before them wore a mixture of mild confusion and contentment on their faces, enraptured by the story but perplexed by its origin, before they all broke back into normal conversation or made their ways back over to the dance floor. 

But the Losers possessed no such blissful ignorance; they knew that story was no mere fiction, had lived it, but even so, the way Bill had woven the words and made them out to be heroes, people to be admired, it was… Eddie didn’t know the word for what he was feeling, but he knew it wasn’t bad. He thought being reminded of that time would be awful, would send him spiralling into a panic attack, but the way Bill told it, it wasn’t about the clown or the fear or the pain, it was about the Losers and the unbreakable bonds they’d forged together. He looked across at them all, at Bill, Ben, Bev, Mike, Stan, and Richie. His family, the people he loved most in the world, and who loved him. Who cared for him and looked after him more than his mother ever did.

“Not bad, Big Bill,” he said, breaking the silence that had fallen across their table even in the midst of all the chatter from the other guests. “Not bad at all.”

“Yeah, the ending didn’t completely suck,” said Richie. “Wild.”

Bill snorted and punched his arm lightly. “Ss-shhut the fuck up, Trashmouth.”

“It was amazing, Bill,” said Ben.

“Thank you,” said Bev, smiling at him softly, tears still pricking her eyes.

“Wait a minute,” said Audra, frowning. “Who was the fat kid?”

“That was Ben,” said Stan.

“What the fuck? No way!” exclaimed Audra, turning to stare at Ben and his defined muscles. “You’re kidding, right?”

“I lost a few pounds,” Ben mumbled, blushing.

“He was just as handsome back then,” said Bev and Ben blushed even more. “Totally adorable.”

“I need to see pictures, stat,” said Audra. “I still can’t believe I was deprived of Billy’s friends coz of that weird psycho clown.”

“How long did it take you to believe him?” said Richie, and Eddie grinned at the thought of Bill trying to explain all that to Audra. He was very glad he never had to explain anything to Myra.

“Not long,” said Audra. “Mike came round and gave me some weird drug.”

“I still wanna try that,” said Richie. 

“Not a chance,” said Mike.

“I believed Stan straight away,” said Patty. “What’s this about a drug?”

“You don’t wanna know,” said Bill.

The last thing to do was cut the cake, a glorious, towering masterpiece of white icing with little models of the bride and groom perched right at the top. Bev and Ben smushed pieces into each other’s faces, smearing the creamy white icing everywhere, figuring they’d at least keep the fun wedding traditions. The guests started heading out one by one after that until it was only the extended Losers left in the grand room. They milled about the room, chatting away to each other with the same ease they always had. No one ever felt left out or uncomfortable when they were all together like that.

Eddie leaned against the wall beside Richie, sharing a slice of cake between them.

“What did you think of Bill’s speech?” said Richie with a mouthful of icing. Eddie grimaced at the cake crumbs falling from his mouth. “Pretty sappy, huh?”

“Super sappy,” Eddie agreed. “But I don’t know, I kinda liked it. Sappy fits with today, you know?”

“Guess so,” said Richie, his eyes moving to Ben and Bev who had the dance floor all to themselves and were holding each other close, swaying slightly to the soft music that still drifted through the room. He watched them for a minute then turned to grin at Eddie. “Really think you and I have a bone-deep bond stretching across the universe?”

“All of us, not just you and me,” Eddie scoffed. “You fucking wish, Trashmouth.”

“Aw, you know you love me, Eddie-spaghetti.”

“Don’t call me that,” said Eddie, not bothering to deny the love part. He hoped Richie wouldn’t notice.

“So, what are the sleeping arrangements tonight?” said Richie. “Ya know, now you can’t hide with Bev. You gonna take Ben’s room?”

Eddie focused on getting a bit of cake on his fork to avoid looking at Richie. “Um.” He coughed. “All my stuff’s still in your room, and I’m tired and- I mean - The bed’s big enough for two, right?” He glanced up at Richie to find him staring at him, but then Richie coughed and looked away.

“Yeah, it’s huge. We’d still be miles apart even if we shared,” he said, speaking too quickly.

“Not really worth the trouble moving then, is it?” said Eddie. “Plus-” He paused staring at the ground - “we need to have that talk at some point, don’t we?”

“Yeah,” said Richie and his voice sounded a little hoarse. “Yeah, I guess we do.”

They wandered around some more but then decided that the wait was more agonising than the actual talk was going to be, so they said their goodnights to the others and headed upstairs to their shared room.

Eddie was filled with nervous energy as they walked side by side. They didn’t talk - they’d do plenty of that in a moment - but still, the silence between them wasn’t uncomfortable, even with the dread of what they were about to discuss. It never was uncomfortable with Richie. Bill was right; all the Losers shared a powerful bond and Eddie loved them all more than he loved his own family, but Richie was different. Richie was… more. More special to Eddie, even as special as the others were to him. He always had been. He was always the one who could make Eddie laugh even when he was feeling really low, who could calm him down from a panic attack, turning his fear to exasperated fury at the flick of a switch with nothing more than a simple inappropriate joke. Eddie would often find himself on the verge of having a mental breakdown only to have Richie say something that got him ranting instead, forgetting all about his fear as he watched that familiar grin spread across Richie’s face. Eddie had never been really mad at Richie - it was impossible - and as much as he acted like it, Richie always seemed to know that. He’d always known Eddie so well, better than anyone else. He’d always known how much Eddie itched to let off steam, to scream like he always wanted to while being suffocated by his mother, and he gave him an outlet in which to do that.

Richie let him be who he was. He never tried to smother him the way his mother or Myra had, didn’t think he was a fragile little child in need of protecting. He looked out for Eddie, of course. Kept him safe. But he didn’t suffocate him, didn’t squash him down into a box, he let him exist. He let him live.

He wondered if he’d be able to tell Richie all of this, get it out in the open. Tell him just how much he loved him. He wondered if Richie really did feel the same. It was only a matter of time before he found out.

They arrived at their room and stepped in together over the threshold.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hmm may need to change the rating for the next chap... ( ͡~ ͜ʖ ͡°)


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enjoy~

Richie pushed the door closed with a soft click and silence stretched through the hotel room. Neither seemed to want to be the first to speak, so Richie wandered over to the stereo set tucked in the entertainment unit beside the TV and busied himself flicking through radio stations while Eddie kicked off his shoes and loosened his tie a little. Richie stopped fiddling with the dial as a familiar song blossomed from the speakers.

_ “Wise men say...” _

Cheesy. This was so cheesy. And Richie was such a fucking coward, but… maybe he’d be brave just this once.

_ “Only fools rush in...” _

“Hey,” he said, just loud enough for Eddie to hear. The other man turned to him with raised eyebrows and Richie held out his hand. “I think I owe you a real dance.”

Eddie looked down at Richie’s hand and the second’s pause felt like a lifetime as Richie’s heart raced, but then Eddie reached out and took it, his warm fingers brushing over Richie’s palm and sending sparks of electricity shooting up his arm, making his heart pound even faster. Richie pulled Eddie over to the balcony and pulled the glass doors open without letting go of his hand. It was snowing again, the soft white flakes glowing softly in the light seeping from their room. They stepped out onto the balcony and, hesitantly, Richie put a hand on Eddie’s waist, the warmth of his skin heating his hand through the thin fabric of his shirt.

“Oh, you’re leading, are you?” said Eddie with feigned annoyance even as he put a hand on Richie’s shoulder.

“Well, duh. You’re so tiny.”

“Average height, dickwad. It’s not my fault your mom fed you steroids.”

Richie only smiled softly, too distracted by that expression on Eddie’s face to retort, the little furrow in his brows and slight flush over his cheeks. This close up, he could see the freckles dusting the bridge of his nose, not as prominent as when they were kids, but still there. Richie longed to count them all one day.

_ “Shall I stay,  _

_ “Would it be a sin…” _

They swayed slowly in time to the music, not really dancing but something like it. The snow came down softly, little flakes falling on Eddie’s hair and catching on his eyelashes before he blinked them away. Richie didn’t feel as cold as he should have, not with Eddie’s hand in his and their bodies so close, sharing heat.

_ “If I can’t help, _

_ “Falling in love with you.” _

Eddie’s face was so close, his lips only a few inches away. Richie only had to tilt his head down slightly if he wanted to meet them, but was he really brave enough? He kept his eyes fixed on Eddie’s mouth, milling it over in his head, trying to work up the courage to just lean down a little. But before he could, Eddie kissed him.

Eddie pulled away almost as quickly as he’d leaned in, but Richie chased his lips, not about to let him get away that easily, and their mouths locked in that little burst of electricity, fitting together like they’d always meant to be, and Richie didn’t care anymore about embarrassing himself, he just let himself sink. He’d wanted to do this for so long. So, so long. And he was having a hard time getting his head around it, so he didn’t bother thinking, just let himself do what he’d been imagining for thirty years.

He hooked his thumbs into Eddie’s belt and pulled him closer so they were flush together, their clothes the only thing between them. Eddie pulled away suddenly and Richie let out a little whine of disappointment, but it turned out it was only so Eddie could pull his glasses off so they wouldn’t have any barrier between them, and as soon as he had, his lips were back on Richie’s and he was pulling him further into the bedroom away from the balcony. Richie’s blindly reached out to close the screen doors and shut out the cold night air just before Eddie pulled him too far away towards the bed.

“Shit,” Richie breathed, pulling away a little for air. “Shouldn’t we have that talk first?”

“Talk later,” said Eddie impatiently, tugging Richie back down. His hands were entangled in his hair, ruining the little braids Patty had oh so carefully woven there. Richie found he didn’t care all that much, not when Eddie’s mouth was so hot against his, not when Eddie’s teeth bit at his bottom lip or when his tongue slipped into his mouth. It seemed Eddie didn’t care all that much about the bacteria in saliva when Richie was involved.

Richie quickly grew frustrated with the clothes between them and his hands blindly found the buttons on Eddie’s shirt, loosening them clumsily with little care as to whether he popped any off, too eager to get his hands on Eddie’s bare skin. His hand found the scar on his chest, the hard, uneven marring of his otherwise perfect skin, stretched across so much of his torso. Richie wanted to kiss it, to run his lips across it, this undeniable proof that even after Eddie had been hurt so badly, he’d  _ survived _ . He was alive, his chest rising and falling rapidly beneath Richie’s hand. He stretched his fingers out, spreading his hands across Eddie’s skin, wanting to feel everything, to memorise every contour of his-

“What the fuck?” Richie pulled away to gape at Eddie’s now bare chest. “You have abs?! We’re fucking forty! Why do you have abs?”

“Because exercise is fucking good for you,” Eddie retorted. “You should try it sometime, asshole.”

“You can do exercise without getting abs!” Richie exclaimed. “You’re fucking ripped, what the fuck? All this time we were fawning over Ben when really you were the one with the stinking hot bod!”

“Oh my god, shut the fuck up!” Eddie cried, hands flying up to cover his burning cheeks.

“Seriously, dude, how much do you work out? How much weight can you bench press?”

Eddie’s hands fell away from his face and Richie only had time to catch a slight flicker of mischief in his eyes before, in one swift movement, Eddie bent down, hooked his arms under Richie’s legs, and flipped him up and back onto the bed with ease.

“How’s that?” Eddie said, moving to lean over Richie with a playful smile pulling at his mouth.

Richie gaped up at him, then decided to forgo words and simply pulled Eddie down, kissing that infuriating little smile right off his face. He let his hands run through Eddie’s soft hair, messing up the neat style like he’d always wanted to. They shifted on the bed until Richie was propped up against the headboard and Eddie was straddling his waist. Richie didn’t think he’d ever get over the feeling of Eddie’s thighs pressed tight around his hips.

“Woah,” said Richie, breaking away as Eddie starting toying with the buttons on his shirt. “No way am I letting you see my forty-year-old dad bod when you look like  _ that _ .”

“I’ve seen it before, dumbass.”

“That was before I knew you had abs!”

“You have abs too,” said Eddie. He slipped his hand up beneath Richie’s shirt and spread his palm out over his abdomen, grinning when Richie gave a shiver. “Under here.”

“Underneath my old man flab?”

“Maybe I like your old man flab,” said Eddie. He leaned forward to whisper in Richie’s ear, nipping playfully at his earlobe along the way and making Richie’s hands spasm where they were resting on Eddie’s hips. “Take off your fucking shirt.”

“Fine but you’re not allowed to make fun of me,” said Richie, voice coming out a lot hoarser than he meant it too. Eddie Kaspbrak was a real tease.

“I won’t make fun of you,” said Eddie, his expression softening. “You’re fucking gorgeous, Tozier.”

“Wow,” said Richie, ignoring the blush spreading across his cheeks. “Love really does make you blind.” He faltered when Eddie raised his eyebrows at him. “I mean- I didn’t-” 

He was silenced when Eddie leaned forward and kissed him, his hands moving to undo Richie’s buttons and push his shirt and blazer off. He paused, breaking away from the kiss when something crinkled in the breast pocket of the blazer, and Richie felt his face burn when Eddie slipped his fingers into it and pulled out a little foil square.

“That’s not mine,” he blurted instantly. “I’m not assuming anything, I swear! Stan gave me this suit and you know how much of a little shit he is-”

“He is,” agreed Eddie, eyeing the foil packet. “He only left us the one. What, does he think we’re only going to do it once?” Richie gaped up at him, words stuck in his throat. “Unless you don’t want to?” Eddie added quickly.

“No! I mean yes! I mean, I’ve had fucking recurring wet dreams about this-”

“Beep beep, Richie.”

“I just- I- Shit.” Richie moved to run his hands down his face. “I need to tell you something first.”

“Spit it out, Trashmouth.”

“I-” Richie stared up at him. His face was a blur without his glasses but that didn’t matter; Richie could picture every detail, had committed it to memory. The exact brown of his eyes and the little permanent furrow of his eyebrows. The slight crook of his nose and the freckles across it. He needed to be brave now. There was no reason not to be; Eddie clearly liked him. He wouldn’t have made out with him or be straddling him or be suggesting they have sex if he didn’t. But he wasn’t sure if this really meant as much to Eddie as it did to Richie. He had to be sure. 

“I love you,” he blurted out at last, talking way too fast but he didn’t care, he just had to get it out. “Like, I’m  _ in _ love with you. I’ve been in love with you since we were twelve and Brian Sanders called me a loudmouth fuckface with mental problems and you slapped him round the face with your fanny pack and told him you’d break his teeth if he ever spoke to me like that again. So- so there it is, I guess. I love you, Eds. I don’t know if that makes things too weird or…”

He stopped short when Eddie started laughing.

“What the fuck?” cried Richie. “I just confessed my undying love to you and you’re laughing at me?”

“It’s- It’s not that,” said Eddie, gasping for breath between laughter. “I just-” He shook his head, breathing deeply until his laughter subsided, then he smiled down at Richie. “I’ve got you beat, bro.”

“You- What?”

“I’ve got you beat,” Eddie repeated. “See,  _ I’ve _ been in love with you since right before that happened when Brian Sanders pushed me over at recess and you yelled loud enough for the whole school to hear that his mom once blew the chemistry teacher behind the gymnasium so he’d give Brian a better grade. So that’s, what, like a whole minute I’ve got on you?”

“You- you-” Richie stared up at him. There were too many things he wanted to say, all fighting at once to get out of his mouth, but he couldn’t seem to get any out. “Wait, so you-”

“I love you too, Rich,” said Eddie.

“Well shit,” said Richie eloquently. “So we really did waste thirty years being dumbasses?”

“Well not really,” said Eddie. “Coz twenty-seven of those weren’t our fault, and the time we spent in Derry wasn’t really our fault either since that town’s a homophobic crap pile. So really, when you think about it, we only wasted one year.”

“Still,” said Richie. “That’s a lot of lost time we’ve gotta catch up on, right?”

“Yeah,” said Eddie. He leaned down once more, kissing Richie deeply, his hands wandering over Richie’s exposed chest. He moved away slightly to press kisses along Richie’s jaw-line, and when he spoke, his breath was hot against his skin. “Guess we’d better get a move on.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm too much of a coward to write actual smut sorry sdjhfgdyu 
> 
> The next chapter shall probably be the last...


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait, I've been kinda putting off writing this coz I didn't want it to end :'(  
Anyway, here we go, guys! Enjoy!

Sunlight streamed through the screen doors illuminating thousands of specks of dust as they swirled in the air in a gentle dance. Eddie let out a low groan as the light shone through his closed eyelids, rolling over in the bed and burying his face in Richie’s bare shoulder to shield himself from the harsh light. Richie shifted slightly in his sleep, his arms tightening around Eddie’s waist and pulling him close against his warm body. Richie may have complained his body wasn’t as aesthetically pleasing as Eddie’s, but in Eddie’s mind, it was the perfect body type for warm hugs.

He smiled against Richie’s shoulder, relishing this feeling of warm bodies tucked together beneath cosy sheets while outside, frost crept up the windows searching in vain for a way to get in. Eddie could get used to this.

He cracked his eyes open a little to check the clock on the bedside table and let out another groan.

“We should get up, Rich,” he said, pressing a kiss to Richie’s shoulder to wake him. Richie let out a whine and only pulled Eddie closer. “Come on, Trashmouth, we’ve gotta say bye to Ben and Bev before they go off on their honeymoon.”

“We can text them,” Richie mumbled. His face was pressed to Eddie’s neck so his voice came out muffled. “They’ll understand.”

“Come on, dickwad, you know you want to see them off,” Eddie laughed, prodding Richie’s chest. “And we need to fucking shower.” Richie groaned but released his death grip on Eddie slightly, instead moving to kiss him, but Eddie clamped a hand over his mouth before he could. “Ew, no, your breath smells like ass. Brush your teeth first.”

Richie kissed Eddie’s palm before tugging his hand away from his mouth. “Effort,” he whined. Still holding Eddie’s hand, he pressed kisses down his arm. “I can kiss everywhere but your mouth, right?” he said, moving to kiss Eddie’s forehead, his cheeks, his nose, his jaw…

“You’re such a fucking sap,” Eddie laughed. 

Richie hummed softly against his skin. “But you love me.”

“You’re never gonna fucking let that go, are you?”

“Never,” said Richie, his mouth trailing down to Eddie’s neck.

“Don’t leave any marks, remember,” Eddie warned him.

“I have a huge hickey on my hip that says you’re a fucking hypocrite.”

“No one’s gonna see that.”

“You never know,” said Richie, making his way down Eddie’s torso, his lips brushing tenderly over the scar. 

“Come on, Trashmouth,” said Eddie, pushing Richie away before he went any lower and they really did end up never leaving the bed. “We need to shower.”

Richie whined once more. “Don’t wanna.”

“We _ both _ need to shower,” said Eddie, looking at Richie pointedly until he finally got the message.

“Oh! Yes, we need to shower right away!” said Richie, practically leaping from the bed before shivering violently from the sudden cold. “Quick, before I freeze to death.” He grabbed both of Eddie’s hands and pulled up him, tugging him in the direction of the bathroom.

Eddie didn’t make it easy for him. He flopped down like a dead weight in Richie’s arms, and Richie huffed, told Eddie he was a bastard, then picked him up and carried him giggling over to the bathroom.

Yes, Eddie could really get used to this.

*

Eddie and Richie tried not to let their change in relationship status show when they went downstairs to meet the other Losers who had all gathered around the fire in the lobby once more, even going as far as to arrive at different times. They didn’t act overly friendly, didn’t touch each other too much aside from ‘accidental’ hand brushing, didn’t even glance at each other lest they accidentally gaze too long. But even so, Stanley took one look at them and -

“You two boned.”

“What the fuck, Stan?” said Eddie instantly. “No, we didn’t fucking bone.”

“Yeah, Stan,” said Richie. “We didn’t ‘bone’, we _ made love_.”

“Richie!” Eddie squawked as Stan’s expression turned into one of triumph.

Richie only shrugged. “What? They were gonna find out anyway.”

He had a point, but Eddie scowled at him and turned away in a huff.

“Are you serious?” cried Bev not bothering to suppress her squeal. “Oh my god! I’m so happy for you two!”

“Fucking f-ff-finally,” said Bill.

“Congratulations, guys!” said Ben excitedly, leaping from his seat to pull them both into a tight hug.

“Woah, Haystack, watch the ribs,” Richie wheezed. “Don’t forget you’ve got huge-ass muscles now.”

Ben let them go with an apologetic smile and Mike pulled them into a hug in his stead, thankfully not as tight as Ben’s hug, although Mike did have some considerable muscles on him too.

“Wait,” said Mike after he’d released them. “Important question: did you two hook up before or after midnight?”

Eddie and Richie exchanged looks.

“You know, it was all kind of a blur,” said Eddie, his mouth twitching as he tried to hide his smirk.

“We really have no idea,” said Richie, not bothering to hide his.

“But then who wins the bet?” said Stan.

“Guess none of you assholes do,” said Eddie smugly. “Which serves you fucking right.”

“You mean to say we get no compensation for having to watch you two pine for thirty years?” said Stan.

“None at all,” said Richie. “And shut up, you only had to watch us pine for like three years.”

“Felt like thirty,” Stan grumbled.

“Oh, who cares about the bet? My favourite gays are finally together!” Beverly squealed. “I better be your maid of honour, Rich.”

“We literally _ just _ got together,” said Eddie at the same time Richie said, “Duh.”

“I mean-” Richie coughed, his face getting a little red. “Yeah, calm down Bev. We aren’t about to start picking out china patterns already.”

Eddie only smiled slightly, watching as his friends teased Richie for his little slip-up. He couldn’t really blame him for it; they had some catching up to do, after all.

Ben and Bev set off not long after, not wanting to miss their flight. Richie tried to persuade them to let him have Ember while they were gone, but Bev was adamant that the dog stay with her aunt who actually knew what she was doing and didn’t have trouble remembering to feed herself let alone another creature.

Bags were piled into the trunk of the cab, hugs were exchanged, goodbyes said. Mike insisted they send him a whole bunch of postcards and Stan gave them a list of birds to keep an eye out for.

“Take care of Rich for me,” said Beverly as she hugged Eddie tightly.

“I’ll try my best,” he replied. “But I can’t promise not to kill him myself if he refers to my mom one more time in bed.”

Bev laughed then kissed his cheek before going to hug Richie, and Ben moved to hug Eddie in her place.

“Don’t let him go,” he whispered as he pulled Eddie in. “He loves you so much, man.”

“You are such a fucking romantic loser,” said Eddie.

“I know,” said Ben. He smiled as he pulled away and opened the cab door for Bev.

“It’s been fun,” said Bev, grinning at them all as she hovered in the cab doorway. “I love you guys.”

“Love you too,” said Bill. “Have a ss-safe flight.”

“See you all at the next wedding if not sooner,” said Ben, winking at Eddie who scowled back at him.

“We won’t have long to wait,” Stan said, smirking at Eddie’s glare.

“See you soon, then, Losers,” said Bev, and with that, they were off, and the remaining Losers waved until the yellow cab faded into the distance.

The others headed back into the hotel to warm up and pack for their own flights home, but Eddie and Richie stayed outside for a little while longer watching the still steadily falling snow cover the tire tracks on the road.

“So,” said Richie after a moment. “You going home today, or…?”

“That was the plan,” said Eddie. 

He hadn’t been looking forward to going back to his cold lonely flat, sparse and empty after Myra had gotten the house in the divorce. He’d never liked it there - it was always a temporary thing until he figured out what he wanted to do - and he despised the loud upstairs neighbours and the landlord who looked like he never washed his hands. He remembered Richie’s house, alive with his merry friends as they got up to drunken shenanigans, full of good memories. It was a nice place after Eddie had thoroughly cleaned it, but, he thought, far too big for just Richie.

“Coz,” said Richie who was fidgeting with the zipper of his coat agitatedly and quite obviously avoiding eye contact, “if you wanted, I could get an extra ticket to LA… I mean- Unless you-” he added quickly, fumbling over his words now. “Unless that’s too fast. Yeah, fuck, that’s way too fast. Forget I said anything.”

“No,” said Eddie. He reached out and took Richie’s hand, his fingers like ice in the January air, and Richie finally looked at him, eyes wide and lips ever so slightly parted. “No, I’d like that. We’re catching up, right? Let’s fucking commit.”

Richie’s mouth split into a grin. “Hell yeah, spaghetti!”

“I’d have to actually go get my stuff at some point, though,” Eddie added.

“Well, yeah. And we should redecorate,” said Richie. “Make it a proper reddie home.”

“‘Reddie’?”

“Richie and Eddie, keep up,” said Richie. “It’s what the kids call a ‘ship name’.”

“Thanks, I hate it,” said Eddie. “Redecorate how?”

“Oh, you know, make it more artsy,” said Richie casually, though that shit-eating grin was still on his face. “Add a few black lights, and if we get a move on, we could have our own Jackson Pollock-themed digs.”

“I’ve changed my mind,” said Eddie immediately, turning and walking back towards the hotel. “I’m going to live with Mike or something. Bye.”

“No, wait!” Richie cried, grabbing Eddie’s hand before he could move any further and falling to his knees at Eddie’s feet. “Oh, Eddie spaghetti, love of my life! Angel from the heavens! Please oh please move in with me, Eddie my love.”

“I hate that song,” Eddie grumbled, trying and failing to hide his smile at Richie’s theatrics. “Get the fuck up, dumbass, your pants are getting soaked.”

“Not until you say yes.”

Eddie heaved a great sigh even though there wasn’t really any question about it. Of course he wanted to move in with Richie. He wanted to wake up next to him every morning and receive those lazy kisses. He wanted them to cook together and sing along loudly to the cheesy eighties rock they both secretly loved, slipping on the kitchen tiles as they danced around in their socks. He wanted to fall asleep next to him on the couch in the evenings, wanted to adopt a dog with him, maybe adopt other things too. He wanted every sickeningly domestic thing he’d been dreaming about since he was twelve.

“Fine,” he said. He tried to sound exasperated but was unable to hide the smile fighting its way onto his face. “Yes, I’ll move in with you, Trashmouth.”

Richie leapt to his feet and grinned before sweeping Eddie off his feet and kissing him like some sort of Disney princess.

“Don’t you dare fucking drop me, asshole!” Eddie shrieked, clinging to Richie until he pulled him back upright.

“Couldn’t resist,” Richie shrugged, still grinning. “Now, our flight’s not until this evening, can we at least turn our hotel room into a Jackson Pollock painting before we go?”

“You are fucking disgusting,” said Eddie.

“But you love me.”

“Yeah,” said Eddie softly, lacing his fingers through Richie’s as they made their way back to the hotel. “Yeah, I do.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's a wrap! Thank you so much to everyone who commented and left kudos!! Y'all are wonderful! I'm gonna miss writing this...


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